


The Catbird Seat

by jaistashu



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M, Manipulation, Power Struggle, Romance, Tragedy, as in no one should be just a one-chapter cameo, but not for a long long time no worries, not the sexy kinds, there's some romance and tiny bits of fluff, there's some spamano if you squint, this won't be a tragedy wank like game of thrones, we got a ton of purely platonic relationships mainly with kings and queens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-03-30 07:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 23,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13946835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaistashu/pseuds/jaistashu
Summary: Every generation of Cards monarchs has to face it at some point: the War–when all kings fall, and the four kingdoms are reset. Alfred intends to prepare Spades for his eventual departure, but Arthur intends to eradicate the traditional Wars once and for all. [Cardverse AU; Established USUK; Rated M for suggestive adult themes and violence later on].The Catbird Seat Blog: catbirdseatfanfic on tumblr.Updates every other Monday.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! I'm just coming out of the woodwork to start posting this monster I've been working on. It's a continuation of Clock (about time, right?). For those of you that want to ask questions or see bonus content behind this fic, go to the blog on tumblr: catbirdseatfanfic.

“Are you alright?” Arthur murmured over his tea cup as he peered through his eyelashes at his king.

Alfred’s eyes flew from…wherever; Arthur didn’t know. As if he’d just been reminded of where he was, Alfred’s shoulders jolted, and his lips tugged into a wistful smile. His soft words drifted past his lips and clung on the breeze, “M’fine.”

Arthur’s tea cup clinked as he set it down. In comparison to Alfred’s tone, Arthur’s words fell between them like bricks from the sky. “You seem…different.” Too different. Too unfamiliar. Too damn sad to be the King of Spades.

Alfred bit the corner of his bottom lip in thought. “Guess I’m growing up?” The remark tripped its way into the conversation as if Alfred made up the excuse on the spot.

“A little late to be growing up.”

Alfred let out a brief laugh. “Yeah, better than never.”

“Mm.”

Alfred’s eyes drifted to meet Arthur’s. “I just… I never stopped. To think about…” His gaze took in the private garden around them. “How pretty it is. How I like it. Being with you at breakfast.”

“You’re…elated about having breakfast with me?”

“‘Course.”

Arthur’s finger nudged against his tea spoon as his worry ate at him. “You’re going through an existential crisis over breakfast?”

“Existential crisis?” A ghost of the Alfred from the week before dared to shine through as he laughed. “Who’s having an existential crisis?”

Arthur’s eyebrows tugged together. “Well, I assumed you were. You’re never so serious.”

“I’m serious sometimes. When it matters.”

Arthur’s jaw locked as he eyed Alfred. “What’s been keeping you so serious for the past week? You’re clearly upset about something. I wish you’d—…tell me.”

“Yeah,” Alfred murmured. “Hey, Queenie—” He flashed Arthur a bright—fake, Arthur thought—smile, “—can you use your superpower clock and tell me what time it is? I gotta go think up a plan to save the world from danger, y’know.”

Arthur pointedly frowned. Alfred knew what the Queen’s Heirloom was. He was just trying to get a rise out of him, no doubt. “Of course,” Arthur spoke in a low tone, annoyed by Alfred’s prodding—however unconvincing it was. Arthur reached into his pocket and gently pulled out the Queen’s Heirloom. “It’s 9:46. Better hurry, love. The world’ll be destroyed without you.” He eased his clock back in his pocket as Alfred let out a curse.

“M’late.” Alfred gulped down the rest of his tea before he jumped up and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s head. “Thanks, babe. I’ll see ya tonight.” He tore off back into their bedroom.

Arthur called after him, “You’re not eating lunch with me?”

Alfred called back (however faintly), “Too busy!” The bedroom door swung shut, and Alfred’s footsteps disappeared.

Arthur watched their bedroom drapes shiver in the breeze. He brought his tea cup to his lips and sipped from it. The morning breeze caressed the garden, and the wind chimes sang—Arthur could’ve sworn he heard them giggle. But they were chimes. Just chimes. Just. Bored. Chimes. Hanging.

Arthur’s eyes followed the wind from his cup and saucer to his drapes and to whatever was inside his bedroom. He set his cup on his saucer with a clink and stood. He gingerly walked up the stone walkway, cautious of the atmosphere around him.

His incessant worry pooled at the back of his mind and tainted his vision as he entered the bedroom. As he turned his head, he felt as if there was a presence just out of reach—just out of his sight—until his eyes fell on Alfred’s desk. Arthur’s steps echoed against the pristine floor as he approached Alfred’s desk. As if it were possessed, Arthur’s hand fell on a drawer handle and yanked the drawer open. A deck of cards smacked against the drawer wall, and the unnatural feeling fled from his hand.

Of his own will (and embarrassment), Arthur picked up the deck and turned it over in his hands, examining it. “What’s Alfred got something like this for?” He mumbled to himself. His worry subsided if only slightly. Arthur let out a groan. He already tried asking Alfred what was bothering him. Not only had Alfred ignored the question, but he left Arthur devoured by his troublesome thoughts. Arthur let out a laugh which he chose to see as mirthful rather than nervous.

“Alright,” he sighed despite the tightness in his smile. “What could it hurt? It’s a children’s…fortune game. Clock’s just a game.” Arthur repeated the phrase to steady himself as took a seat in Alfred’s chair and spilled the cards out of the card sleeve. “Just a game,” he mumbled, “just a game.”

The cards lay against Alfred’s desk, some facing up and some facing down.

“Well…better do it correctly.” Arthur took his Heirloom out of his pocket and held it. His thumb nuzzled against the clock face as Arthur drew a hint of Spades magic from it. The clock’s glow appeared like a low and gentle hum—like the beginning to a child’s lullaby—before Arthur set the Heirloom down on the desk. Arthur picked up all the cards and placed them all in the correct starting order, sliding each card to fill the previous card’s precise boundaries. “All face north,” he murmured and eyed the card backs, checking the decorative pattern for any cards facing the wrong way. For a solid two minutes, Arthur shuffled: four overhands, a riffle, four overhands, a riffle, four overhands, a riffle, four overhands, and a final riffle. He dropped the deck on the desk and stared at it.

His eyes drifted to his Heirloom and then landed on the deck again. He drew in a calm breath and released it. “If tensions rise,” he whispered…to the deck, feeling less embarrassed than he had at the start of the ritual, “to cause unavoidable war… I want to know. What is the worst that could happen?”

Arthur picked up the deck and set the first card down at one o’clock, the second at two o’clock, and so on until he’d reached the thirteenth card. He set it in the center of the Clock and proceeded to set the rest of the cards down in their respective positions, the thirteenth card always landing in the center. He stared down at his Clock, and his stomach churned.

“I don’t have to do this,” he reminded himself. He let out a tense sigh, and his index finger tapped the center stack of four cards. He squeezed his eyes closed, cursed to himself, and picked up the first card. “I can still stop this…” Arthur’s eyes cautiously opened, and he let out a breath of relief. “The four of spades.” If a war came, at least one of their cities would make it out of it—unharmed or not, a city would live. He slipped it under four o’clock and continued the fortune-telling game.

Arthur pulled a card from the four o’clock pile, and his lips pulled into a tight frown. The King of Clubs, dead. Arthur would guess that it may be Alfred’s doing—hypothetically. Arthur slipped the King of Clubs under the thirteenth pile and continued.

As the seconds passed, Arthur’s lips pulled into more and more relieved smiles—only interrupted by a wince once he’d pulled the King of Hearts. But not all hope was lost. He continued pulling cards. All the queens would live. All the jacks would live. All the capitals would live. At least seven cities in each kingdom would make it through this. Arthur was feeling better about it, most assuredly—until he pulled the King of Spades. Arthur stared at the card and then at all the progress and saved cities. Alfred… Alfred would be proud. Right? Right… Right…

Arthur’s jaw clenched as he stared down the card he held. In seconds, he forcibly wiped the image from his mind and slipped the King of Spades beneath the thirteenth pile with the other two kings. It was just a game. He continued. Once he pulled the King of Diamonds, Arthur tucked him under the thirteenth pile. Arthur stared at his Clock.

Everyone will live, and every king will die. It was a perfect Clock with every face showing. A perfect fortune.

Arthur’s eyes drifted towards his Heirloom, and it snapped closed, its job done. He gingerly placed it in his pocket as he eyed the Clock before him. This Path to Peace would be the best for everyone—the least bloody path Cards has ever seen, and, as per tradition, every king would fall.

Even Alfred.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur’s bed embraced him as his eyes slipped closed. He’d spent his day living through a forced combination of work and research. In fact, he’d spent the majority of his time in the royal library—morning, lunch, afternoon, evening, dinner. It wasn’t until Arthur had a hard time keeping his eyes open that he’d wandered back to the bedroom, and he’d still beaten Alfred to the punch. He made a note to apologize to the Spades Jack for pushing off the day’s duties on him. Arthur let out a sigh and forced his body to sit up.

The door opened, and Alfred lingered through, exhausted from the day’s efforts. His eyes rested on Arthur as he pushed the door closed and locked it. His lips tugged into a smile, and he lifted an eyebrow. “Rough day?” His fingers deftly unbuttoned his shirt as he spoke.

Arthur, as happy as he would be to catch up with Alfred among other things, rejected the flirty atmosphere Alfred intended to fuel. “Less rough. More tiresome. And…eye-opening, I’m sure.”

Alfred’s fingers slowed until they lazily finished unbuttoning. “Yeah,” he hummed as his eyes lingered. He could take a hint. Arthur wasn’t in the mood tonight. A sting of disappointment attempted to grip him, but Alfred forgot all about it when he saw what was on his desk. “Is that…?” Alfred leaned over his desk to see a perfect Clock. “Were you…playing?”

Arthur frowned, and the beginnings of shame tinted his cheeks. It wasn’t the end of the world that Alfred found out Arthur had been playing with cards. It’d be easy enough to explain away. He stood and meandered over. “No. Just doing a bit of cheating. Spoiling myself, you know. Clock tells the future.” And, honestly, seeing a Perfect Clock gave Arthur the strength he needed to read every historic word of past Wars.

“I know that.” Alfred’s tone remained stiff until he could figure out how to feel about Arthur’s perfect Clock. “I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were. I just thought…perhaps you weren’t familiar with it. It was a poor child’s game.” Arthur’s finger tapped against the desk chair. “I’d play it all the time.” He let out a soft laugh. “Over silly things, too.”

“I’ve never seen you play Clock.” Alfred eyed Arthur with a calculating gaze.

Hints of worry scratched at the back of Arthur’s mind. “I’ve had no reason to since the coronation. I was under the impression we could handle anything the world threw at us. …Have you used Cloc—”

“—No. Never.”

Arthur lifted an eyebrow. “Never?”

“Never ever.” Alfred dropped his coat over his chair. “But… What…” He stared down at the cards—all facing up and safe. “For fun—what’d you ask it? When you did it. What were you looking for?”

Arthur’s body stiffened, and he watched Alfred. He could say anything, and Alfred would believe him. Probably. Perhaps. But…now wasn’t the time to send Alfred’s thoughts on a wild goose chase—not when they were both preoccupied with upcoming life-or-death decisions. His voice was soft, almost afraid of speaking much louder than a whisper, “About the War.”

“What war?”

“Alfred.” When Alfred only responded with a look, Arthur frowned, and he pulled his Heirloom from his pocket before placing it in an ornate box rooted to his own desk. “ _If_ there was to be a war, I wanted to know how many lives could be saved, how many cities—if the Aces would be called upon.” He added under his breath: “How cruel the Jokers felt like being.”

Alfred shushed Arthur as panic flooded his eyes. It was almost as if Arthur had cursed in front of a child.

Arthur pointedly frowned. “They can’t hear me.”

“You wanna test that, babe?”

Arthur reluctantly tore his gaze from Alfred and let out a huff. “Well. In any case, that’s what I asked your deck.” He leaned down, taking the key that hung around his neck, and locked the ornate box. “And as you can see, my fortune is fair.”

“This is…real?” Alfred asked, almost afraid to feel hope.

Arthur nodded ever so slightly. “I may have dipped into the Heirloom’s reserve.”

“Arthur,” Alfred hissed with the intent to scold him.

“It was _just_ a touch. Just a little bit—to ensure that _nothing_ would falsify the result.”

Thoughts of the Jokers manipulating Arthur entered Alfred’s head. Well— If Arthur had really used some of his Heirloom’s magic, then the fortune really was true—it had to be. A relieved smile splayed across Alfred’s face. “So no matter what _I_ saw…you’ll be able to rebuild everything. Everywhere.”

“What do you mean what you saw?”

“What?”

“Did you see something that’d suggest otherwise?” Arthur crossed his arms, intent on seizing Alfred’s confession before they’d get to bed. “An unstoppable weapon or a coup or something terrible like that?”

“No, nothing like that.” He flashed Arthur a bright smile. “We’re still the industrial empire, babe. Still on top.”

Arthur refused to match Alfred’s smile.

Alfred’s smile faltered. “Okay, I _might’ve_ played Clock. With Gilbert. A bit.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “You played the fortune-telling game with your deck—”

“—Gilbert’s deck—”

“— _Gilbert’s_ deck,” Arthur’s voice rose, “and you’re just accepting whatever you saw in your Clock as the truth? Alfred, he’s a fate manipulator!”

“And his jokes suck,” Alfred murmured.

_“Alfred!”_

Alfred let out a heavy sigh. “Look, if I got a perfect Clock, I’d think it was fake, but the results I got were really shitty. You barely made it by the skin of your teeth, y’know.” He extinguished his desk oil lamp, headed over to the bed, and collapsed onto it. “I didn’t care if I saw my own death in the cards or not—you were fine, and I… I knew you and the other survivors could build Cards back up again. And now since you got an _accurate,_ perfect Clock, I can rest easy!” He allowed a fraction of his worries to melt away.

“What are you saying?”

Alfred lifted his head to see Arthur still standing by his desk, rigid and silently panicked. He sat up fully and rested his arms on his knees. He began to speak slowly, unsure of the right thing to say, “I’m…saying that I think I can accept it. Now that I know you can clean it all up just fine…death’s a little easier to swallow, y’know?”

“You’d let yourself die?”

“No, of course not! I don’t wanna die. I don’t… _really_ wanna see the other kings take the fall either, but I can’t figure out how to avoid another War, so…” Alfred scraped together some words he hoped would sate Arthur at least a little. “In the meantime, I’m going to prepare all I can so rebuilding’ll be easier for you and the survivors.”

Arthur’s nails dug into his arms as he glared. “You’re already planning your funeral.”

“Well—no.” Alfred paused, and his eyebrows pulled together. “I guess I’ll do it tomorrow, but, c’mon, it’s bedtime.” He patted Arthur’s side of the bed.

“I’m not so sure I’m comfortable sleeping beside a dead body.”

“C’mon, babe.” Alfred gave Arthur a tentative smile. “It’s not that bad.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “Not that bad?” Alfred winced. “Your death. Not that bad? Your—possibly—bloody, brutal death. Not that bad—.”

“It might be quiet...”

“ _Alfred!”_ Arthur’s hands gripped the air as if to strangle his own frustration. “You’d still be dead! And you’re saying that your absence—your _death—_ won’t be a big deal.”

Alfred let out a tense sigh. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s what you said.”

Alfred frowned and patted the spot beside him again.

“No, you’re dead.”

“I’m living _now._ C’mon.”

Arthur’s glare weakened ever so slightly. He was against letting Alfred off easy—especially in a circumstance like this! It was unacceptable to just…accept death the way Alfred was! Well, surely, Alfred would die if he kept saying things like, ‘oh, it’s fine for now,’ or, ‘I’ll prepare for it; don’t worry.’ It was the same as rolling over and dying!

“Babe.”

Arthur’s nails dug into his arms more. Well, fuck that. Arthur had no intention of just letting Alfred roll over and die. After all, if Alfred’s fortune was so sure that Arthur would live just fine, then, hey, it’s sure to come true. Arthur could throw himself into the line of fire just fine and still come out healthy and…mourning, but alive.

“Arthur. Bedtime. I already know you don’t want sex tonight, so I’m not gonna try.”

Blush dusted Arthur’s cheeks, and his arms fell to his sides. “I get into bed with you on one condition.”

“Yes.”

Arthur’s gaze narrowed. “You don’t know what my condition is.”

“I don’t even care. I just want you in bed with me.” Alfred gave Arthur a tense smile.

“There you go dismiss—” Arthur’s frustrated huff cut him off. Alfred was shoving aside emotional work again. “Forget it. Fine. I’ll sleep with you.”

“Sleep _with_ me or sleep _next to_ me?”

“Next to you. It’s getting cold anyway.” Arthur walked across the freezing floor and crawled into bed beside Alfred. He nuzzled against him, unable to help himself.

Alfred covered them with blankets and wrapped his arms around Arthur. Alfred winced when the cold bite of Arthur’s key pressed against his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur eyed the Spades castle as he idly dug his nails into his fingers. Birds flew past the spires, and citizens loomed over him, blocking his view every so often. His eyes fell down to the part-dirt, part-stone street as news about the royal newborns scattered about the capital. Twins, he’d heard. The Queen of Spades had given birth to twins. Maybe they’d be the new king and queen.

Arthur frowned.

There went his chances to live in a big, pretty castle.

“Arthur!”

Arthur gasped, “Scott—,” and his eyes flew from his fingers to see his older brother approach and grab his arm.

“What’re you doing out here in the street?” Scott towered over him, his hair whipping about in the wind like fire as worry flickered in his eyes.

Arthur kept his eyes locked with his brother’s before turning his attention back towards the castle.

Scott tilted his head up, noting all the people gravitating towards the far-away structure. “…Are you excited? Because there’s a change? Or because…” His eyes fell on his little brother—on his tattered clothes and dirtied toes. He sighed. “… C’mon. You’re too short to see.” Scott yanked Arthur up into his arms and placed him on his shoulders. “Hang on.”

Arthur clung to Scott’s head and stretched his neck to see better. “… Not tall like Dad.”

“Dad’s a grown-up. He’s supposed to be tall.” Scott let out a laugh. “Least I’m not as short as you. You can’t even reach a knight’s knee.”

“M’gonna grow,” Arthur muttered. Scott hummed in agreement. His eyes widened as a firework shot into the sky. “Scott…”

Scott’s lips tucked into a slight smirk. “S’just magic. Everyone in Cards knows about the royal babies. The Jack put everyone’s happiness together with powder and fire. That’s Spades being happy. And Cards being happy. It’ll give good luck and make the newborns great kings, queens, aces, jacks—…people. I guess. Whatever happens. You wanna make them happy, right?”

Arthur rested his chin on his arms as he watched and nodded. The fireworks sounded like a thousand giant bubbles rumbling as they popped and then like hail falling onto a cobblestone road. A few whistled and screamed in their fly and descent, and Arthur would admit to being afraid of them if he weren’t so entranced by the pretty lights.

Scott patted Arthur’s leg once the last few fireworks shot and fizzled.

“Mm.” Arthur’s eyes were closed as he had listened to the distant popping.

“You like the castle?”

Arthur nodded.

Scott turned and headed back home. “You wanna live in it?”

Arthur nodded.

“…I can’t get it for you.”

Arthur let out a soft whine.

A laugh bubbled in Scott’s throat. “You’re so spoiled. I can’t get you a castle. But…I can get you something else.” He headed into their home, pulling the door shut and turning the wooden lock on its side. He set Arthur down at the table. “Wait here.” Arthur leaned against the table and watched as Scott fetched a small sleeve from their room. He dropped his week’s pay into a wooden jar before setting the centimeter-thick sleeve on the table. “Look through them.”

Arthur stretched and felt the sleeve in his hands, giving it a quizzical look.

Scott slipped the sleeve out of Arthur’s hands and pinched one edge as he pulled on another. Scott set the sleeve aside and began shuffling his cards. “They’re not a castle, but they’re special. You can use them to tell the future.”

Arthur’s eyes stretched wide as he pulled over a chair and stood on it, getting a bird’s eye view of Scott’s shuffling. “The future?”

“Yeah, but first you gotta throw these guys out.” Scott plucked the two jokers from the deck. “They don’t fit.”

Arthur stared at the joker cards as if he were trying to make them fly with his mind.

Scott met Arthur’s eyes and snickered. “They can’t fit in this game. They don’t count. C’mon. Pay attention.”

Arthur broke his stare and watched Scott set up 13 piles.

“What do you wanna know?”

Arthur’s eyes flickered between Scott and the set-up, and his eyebrows furrowed.

Scott shrugged. “Do you wanna know… If you’ll get a good job? If you’ll live in a castle? If you’ll marry a pretty girl? If you’ll meet the King?”

Arthur nipped his bottom lip. “I wanna…see the castle.”

Scott lifted an eyebrow. “Not live in one?” He looked to Arthur before glancing away. “Y’know… They don’t know where the new King, Queen, or Jack are. You could be one. Let’s ask it. Are you the new King? Let’s ask it that.”

Arthur frowned, but nodded just the same.

Scott nodded in return. “Clock, is Arthur the new King of Spades?” He drew from the center pile. “See, that’s a five. Put it in the 5 o’clock pile like this.” He slipped the card beneath the 5 o’clock pile. “And you put jacks on 11, queens on 12, and kings in the middle.” He drew from the 5 o’clock pile and placed the 6 under the 6 o’clock pile. He kept drawing and showing Arthur the cards as he played the fortune game.

After a couple minutes, Scott drew the final king with a tsk and slipped it under the 13th pile. They looked over the clock, only two piles showing—one of which was the king’s pile. “Bad luck. …” Scott pooled the cards together and began shuffling again. “Maybe you’re the new jack.” Once shuffling was done, Scott set up the clock again. “Clock, is Arthur the new Jack of Spades?” He waited a moment before drawing from the 13th pile. It began again with a 5. Scott ignored the similar beginning and moved on, pulling cards and slipping them under piles. After pulling a third king, he moved faster, pulling and slipping. Pile after pile showed its true face, and determination burned in Scott’s eyes.

Arthur watched Scott’s hands move back and forth as fast as they could. He stared at the completed clock—all faces showing.

Scott let out an accomplished huff. “It’s set. A perfect clock.” He sent Arthur a grin. “Guess you’re gonna be the Jack of Spades.”

“… I thought the queen was next.”

Scott’s grin fell into a frown, and he pooled the cards together again. “You don’t wanna be the queen.” He spoke instantly and paused in his movements. “…The job’s not…really like you. I’d make a better queen. I know the navy better than you.” Scott rushed to change the subject. “You’re gonna be the jack. You’re gonna see the castle!” He forced a smile.

Before Arthur could express concern, his eyes brightened at the thought of visiting the Spades Castle. Him, a jack!! Looking at all those pretty flowers and shooting off Spades smiles and happiness with powder and fire! He bounced up and down on his seat, excitement gripping him. “I’m gonna be Jack!”

“You’re gonna be Jack.” Scott slid his cards back in their sleeve and placed the sleeve in front of Arthur. “A Jack’s gonna need magic fortune-telling cards.”

Arthur picked up the deck and turned it over in his hands before flashing a grateful smile. He had magic! He’d be the Jack of Spades! Meet the King, the Queen, see all the people—He’ll see the castle! Maybe he’ll even shoot off fireworks.


	4. Chapter 4

“I can’t allow Alfred to fight this on his own,” Arthur stated as he scrawled out a letter to the Spades Ace.

Yao sat at the library table with his queen, sealing Arthur’s letters with melted wax and the Queen’s Seal. “He may have mentioned you got a perfect Clock.”

Arthur’s pen halted, and his eyes darted over to Yao. “Don’t spread that. Please,” he murmured. “I’d never be able to walk the streets without someone thinking I’d waste the Spades Power on something so trivial as Clock.”

“But it was a perfect Clock.”

“Clock is _still_ a poor child’s game.” Arthur’s pen scratched against the parchment again. “Would you use the Queen’s Heirloom to win hopscotch?”

“Perhaps if the point of it was to reach a pot of gold at the end of a mile-long hopscotch court.” Yao’s slight mirth attempted to infect the conversation. “But you’re the only one that can use the Queen’s Heirloom. And you already have all the gold you could want.”

“Noted. I won’t use it to win hopscotch, then.” Arthur let out a sigh and set his pen down before looking over the letter for grammatical errors and diction follies.

Yao’s eyes slipped between the letter and Arthur’s focused stare. “It’s a delicate balance.”

“Mm.”

“… Inviting our Ace so early seems…” Yao pressed the Queen’s Seal into the melted wax, debating on whether or not to go on.

“Seems…?”

“Too heavy for a first move.” Yao pulled up the seal and set it and the envelope aside. “You wouldn’t run out to the battle and throw the Queen’s Heirloom at a soldier, right?”

“I hardly think bringing our Ace in immediately is counterintuitive.” Arthur’s fingers slowly wrapped around the pen as his eyes reached the end of the letter.

“Sending out all the magic we have as a first move?”

Arthur signed the letter and set the pen aside to allow the ink time to dry. “I don’t have time to run around in circles, losing prized generals and loyal Spades soldiers. If we can start and end this war with one battle, then everyone can be safe. It’d be the shortest War in Cards history.”

Yao plucked a filled envelope from the short stack and flipped it over before him. “What if our best chance isn’t enough against three armies?”

“The hell he isn’t.”

“It’s _three_ armies. Forget that our own Spades militia is behind him. No amount of magic and power from _one_ Ace is enough to take out three armies. Especially if they’re all allies against us.” Yao poured the wax onto the envelope before setting it aside and stamping the melted wax.

“Are you doubting Matthew?”

“Only when reality is involved.”

“Yao,” Arthur hissed. His eyebrows were drawn together with a frown firmly set on his face. “You’ve never been against him before. Why now?”

Yao set the Queen’s Seal aside. “I’m not now. Ace Matthew is strong, but he’s not… He won’t rush into it. He’s been careful with the Spades power since he was a child. You need to talk about this with the King.”

“He’s in a meeting with his generals. I can’t. I have to take action.” Arthur folded his letter and slipped it in a labeled envelope before passing it over to Yao.

“Is it because he lives on the outskirts of Spades?”

Arthur let out a tense sigh and watched the short stack of envelopes sit still. “Yes. Partially. If we need him immediately, he’ll already be here. It’s convenient.”

Yao poured the wax onto the Ace’s envelope. “What if the other kings hear you begged your Ace onto the field?”

“I didn’t beg.”

Yao stamped the Queen’s seal into the wet wax. “Asked.”

Arthur’s eyes slipped closed, and he rested his head on his folded arms. “That I’m weak? That the Spades Queen’s Heirloom is rubbish? That I’d go behind Alfred’s back to try and hurl god-like power at our enemies without even allowing them to take the first shot.” His eyes peered open, and he spoke softer, “…that I’m…possibly a tyrant. If not for Alfred, I’m a tyrant.”

“A well-meaning tyrant.”

“Thank you. Doesn’t help, but… Thank you just the same.”

The two sat in silence as Yao set aside the Ace’s envelope. He went through the rest, pouring wax, and stamping it while Arthur thought through the political implications of his actions. Yao set the last letter aside. “You don’t have to send it. You can rip it up.”

“I don’t want there to be another War. The kings are so young.” Arthur sat up immediately and stared ahead. He grabbed a sheet of parchment and began to write, trying to be legible as he went. “There doesn’t have to be another War.”

“… Arthur, what are you…” Yao eyed who Arthur was making the letter out to. He watched for another minute, reading what Arthur wrote. “You’re inviting the King of Clubs. Arthur—”

“It’ll work.”

“You know that he’d never—”

“It’ll work.”

“… The other kings will be suspicious if they are all—”

“It _will_ work.”

“But they’ll be surrounded by our navy if they visit; they won’t feel safe—”

“Yao!” Arthur paused his writing and gripped his pen as he stared down at the parchment. He lowered his voice in a silent apology. “… Let me try. Please. They don’t have to accept the invitation, but you have to let me try.”

Yao eyed Arthur for a moment. “...At least talk about it with the king first. When King Alfred agrees, we’ll send the letters.”

Arthur stared down at his signature in thought before grabbing another piece of parchment and passing the finished letter over to Yao. “Very well.”


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur’s young eyes watched the trees bend and shudder with the strong breezes. He took a seat beneath one and pulled at the grass nestled between the tree roots. His knuckles, having been nearly freed of his baby fat, pressed up against his skin. Arthur circled a finger over one of his knuckles as soft tingles warmed his hand.

“Arthur!”

Arthur’s eyes drifted up to see the Spades-King-in-training not far off. Alfred’s face broke into a smile, and he waved before running over. Arthur tilted his head up to meet Alfred’s equally young eyes.

“So you’re my queen.”

Arthur’s eyebrows drew together as skepticism filled his eyes.

Alfred’s exuberance burst at his seams, but he remained still so as to not frighten Arthur off. “So. … You can talk. Right? ‘Cause if you can’t, that’s…okay. It’s weird, but it’s okay.” He gasped as his mind fell into another train of thought. “We could just write to each other! We’ll write together in a journal and have conversations like that!”

“…Why would you write if I’m the one who’s mute?”

“Because—… Okay, so. You’re not mute.”

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t really like talking very much.”

A brief laugh fell from Alfred’s lips. “That’s silly.”

“You’re silly.”

Alfred frowned, but it didn’t last long.  

“You know, we don’t have to like each other.” Arthur rested his hands in his lap and leaned against the trunk behind him. “We just have to work together.”

“I wanna like you. So I’m gonna like you,” Alfred stated, marking his claim as factual.

Arthur lifted an eyebrow. “You can’t just decide to like people. They might do something you don’t like. Then what’ll you do? Are you still going to try and like someone even if you don’t?”

Alfred crossed his arms. “I’ll like them even if they do something I don’t like.”

“Ahuh. What if they push you?”

“I’ll still like ‘em.”

Arthur leaned forward and hooked a hand around the back of Alfred’s knee, sending him tumbling down on to the ground with a yelp. “There. Still intend to like me?”

Alfred sat up, leaning on Arthur’s legs as he did. He let out a hiss and sat back. The blood on his knees looked as if a painter had dry-brushed crimson over Alfred’s skin. The blooms saturated more skin by the second.

Arthur sucked in a bit of air as panic struck him. “Alfred—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” He bit his bottom lip.

Alfred put all his strength into holding back tears. “S’okay,” his voice wavered and threatened to spill into a sob, “s’all okay. It—it doesn’t hurt. Not. Not one bit. Nope.” His statements tapered off into slight whines.

Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat, and he grasped Alfred’s knees, pressing his palms against the scraped up and punctured skin. Alfred let out another yelp and a sob. Squeezing his eyes closed, Arthur concentrated on pooling all the magic he had into Alfred’s knees. When Alfred’s gasps and sobs stopped, Arthur opened his eyes and released Alfred’s knees. The pebbles and splinters that were once lodged in his skin fell down to the grass.

Alfred’s eyes widened at the healing. “You fixed it…”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur murmured. “I just…thought that it was foolish.”

“Magic’s not foolish! That was cool!”

Arthur shook his head. “No, that’s… I meant that I thought it was foolish to just decide to like everyone you meet. It’s not real. People are going to do more than push you and scrape up your knees in the future.”

“Mm.” Alfred rested his hands on Arthur’s legs and tapped his fingers against them in thought. “I got it. What if. You hate everyone for me. And I’ll like everyone for you. So if…someone’s gonna push me again, you can tell me. And if you’re being too mean, I’ll tell you.”

Arthur kept his eyes locked with Alfred’s. It was bewildering to stare at utmost confidence. A relief blossomed in his cheeks, and his lips pulled into a smile. “That’s…still impractical, but we can work on it.”

Alfred nodded eagerly. “Together, right?”

“Yes, together.”

* * *

Together, Arthur thought, he and Alfred had to strategize together to avoid destruction. Arthur’s nail tapped then scraped against the doorframe beside him. Alfred lifted his eyes from his work to see his queen standing in his office doorway.

“Arthur,” Alfred spoke with an effortless smile as he set aside his pen, “what’re you doing here? I thought you went to check on the ships.”

Guilt nipped at Arthur, but he shrugged it off. “I’ll leave in a minute. I just had an idea.” Without invitation (not that he needed one), Arthur stepped into Alfred’s office, intent on creating a convincing argument. “We should invite Matthew to stay with us. Have a trip, you know? We’re still in a time of peace, and it’d be really nice to see him again.”

“Yeah, that sounds—” Alfred’s mood paused as he thought through the implication. “Wait, hold on. If we know a War’s coming, the other kings’ve got it figured out by now. What’ll they think if we invite Mattie to the capital?”

“They’ll think we have a good relationship with our Ace.”

“They’ll think we wanna wipe them out.” Alfred leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh; he’d really gotten his hopes up in the short span between thoughts. “We can’t invite Mattie while everyone’s worried about the War. It’ll send the wrong message. Hell, we already got innovation on our side. The best Clubs has is a pitchfork. I mean—” He shook his head and tried to find better words.

Instead of arguing about Matthew, Arthur hurried onto his next idea. “That’s not all of my idea. Take a moment. No one wants a War, right?”

Alfred’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “Arthur… We don’t get to choose to have a War or not. They just…happen. Someone does something which triggers someone else doing something, and before you know it, there’s another War.”

“Just— No one wants one, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. My idea is this.” Arthur held up his hands and spoke with them. “What if we were to invite the other three kings here?” Before Alfred could get a word in, Arthur continued on, “Just listen— I want to invite them all here so we can all talk about the problems we have with each other. I want to solve those problems so the tension will dissipate. And we won’t have to go into another War. We can just…push it off. I suppose… But what if we just skip the War for this generation?” Excitement jumped into his tone. “What if the most recent War was the last one?”

“… Arthur, there’s… That sounds really great. I love it. I really, really want it almost more than anything.” The hardest part to listen to was Alfred’s definite heartfelt sincerity. “If there’d never be another War, we could just live long lives, but that’s…not gonna happen.”

Arthur’s excitement deflated. “I realize the latter of what I said is idealistic, not realistic, but if we could just postpone this War by talking out our problems with the other kings, then shouldn’t we try to?”

Alfred thought in silence.

“We should at the very least invite Matthew to the capital.” Arthur rested a hand over Alfred’s and gave it a squeeze. “It’d do wonders for your mood, and he can offer a unique perspective on the whole matter without actually raising tension. We could ask him what he’d do or wouldn’t do, and what would be the best choice if we want to keep the Balance. That’s all.”

Alfred turned over his hand to hold Arthur’s. “It’d be fishy to invite Mattie and the three kings to our country. They won’t see it as an offer for peace. They’ll just see us inviting them into a trap to win the War with one move.”

“Then just Matthew. At least for now. We’ll just invite Matthew and see what he thinks.” Arthur released Alfred’s hand and took off for the door. “I’ll go write out a letter to send him. We can’t waste a moment. After that, I’ll go check on the ships.”

“Arthur.”

Arthur paused, half out the door, and looked back.

“I’m okay with it. As long as Mattie isn’t involved in the War at all.”

“But—”

“ _Not_ at all.” Alfred eyed Arthur with a mix of worry and stubbornness. “We have to make sure the other kings don’t feel threatened. Mattie stays out of the War, okay?”

After a moment of thought, Arthur nodded.

Alfred’s sternness softened. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Arthur sent Alfred a small smile before leaving his office and heading for the Jack’s private library.


	6. Chapter 6

Matthew wandered away from the reception. He’d never known the King of Spades—only knew of him. The stories celebrating the man’s life and remembering him didn’t hold any weight.

At least…not nearly the same weight it’d hold with the King in Training who’d tried his best to keep dry eyes during the funeral. Matthew shoved the image to the back of his mind. He hadn’t gotten close to the King like Alfred had, learning from the King—learning how to run the kingdom of Spades.

Matthew let out a tense sigh. The King was basically Alfred’s father at the point of his death. Matthew thought himself lucky; at least his ‘fathers’ wouldn’t perish in a War. No, the Jokers were untouchable. And Matthew could never relate to Alfred’s loss.

He paused as he turned the corner to see someone hunched over a set of cards, dressed head to toe in black.

The boy—15 or 16 years, maybe?—plucked a card from the many short stacks before him and slipped it under another stack. He went slow, plucking, observing, slipping, and his gaze lifted briefly before he froze. He lifted his head entirely to see Matthew in his dark clothes, the style too mature for the remnants of baby fat still in his cheeks. “Who are you?” The boy demanded. His hands hovered over his game, trying to block Matthew’s view without ruining what he’d set up. “What’re you doing here? Everyone’s supposed to be at the dinner.”

Matthew’s gaze wavered between the boy’s piercing green eyes and the card set-up. “Matthew. I was just walking. I don’t… I don’t really…belong at the dinner. I didn’t know the King.”

The boy’s body relaxed, and he leaned back, allowing his hands to rest in his lap. His head bowed down as he eyed his cards. “We’re similar, then.” He picked up a card and slipped it underneath another stack. “I’m Arthur. The…Queen in Training.” He moved another card.

Matthew stepped over and squatted, looking over the stacks. His eyes widened with realization when he recognized the set-up. “What’d you ask it? Your Highness?”

“Don’t bother,” Arthur murmured. “I’m not the Queen yet.” And, he thought, hopefully he won’t be the queen for years.

“What’d you ask it, Arthur?”

Arthur tapped a finger against the 1 o’clock stack and drew a card from it. “… I don’t know.” He slipped the card beneath a stack. “I just wanted to play.”

Matthew sat back before crossing his legs and watching Arthur’s hands. “Were you worried?”

Arthur slipped another card beneath another stack.

Matthew watched. “… There’s probably not going to be another War while you’re training. Alfred’ll make it to adulthood. You will, too.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It helps to be the Spades Ace,” Matthew mumbled.

Arthur froze, and he met Matthew’s eyes. “Right. I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t really know what it feels like to see everything. I didn’t mean any disrespect.” How could he have forgotten that Matthew—as the Spades Ace—would have power beyond Arthur’s own magic talents?

“It’s okay—and I can’t. Not really. The Jokers don’t really wanna…shout it from the rooftops. I’m still training, too.” Matthew reached forward to draw a card.

Arthur grabbed Matthew’s hand.

“… It’s not a real fortune, Arthur. There’s no magic. It’s okay if I draw one, right?”

Arthur shook his head and released Matthew’s hand. “I’m…using some. Don’t interrupt it. Please.”

Matthew drew his hand back. “But you already know I’m not gonna let the Balance shift. You and Alfred’ll be okay. You’ll both live to take the thrones.”

Red tinted Arthur’s cheeks, and he drew another card. After a moment of silence, he spoke, “I should be looking to see if we’ll have another War. You should’ve been right. But… I’m…” His voice fell into a whisper, “I don’t know if Alfred and I will get along as King and Queen...”

“You’re…looking up a crush?”

“No,” Arthur hissed. “…Sorry. No. I’m looking up our compatibility.”

“You’re looking up a crush.”

“Compatibility.” 

Matthew let out a soft sigh. “There’s more to life than Alfred.”

“I know.” Arthur drew the last king and placed it beneath the center pile. “I’m living it before the coronation. Whenever it happens.” His eyebrows drew together. “It’s not a perfect Clock. Even with magic, it’s not perfect.”

“Well…getting a perfect Clock is really hard. You almost never see them.” Matthew hovered his hand over the set-up. When Arthur did nothing to impede his movements, Matthew gathered the cards and faced them right-side up. “I guess you and Alfred’ll have fights or something like that. It was mostly pretty great, though. A bunch of stacks were faced up.” He set the deck down. “Using magic doesn’t make a perfect Clock. It just makes…an accurate Clock. …Depending on what your source of magic is. Queens can make _very_ accurate Clocks.” He gave Arthur a reassuring smile.

Arthur’s lips tugged into a smile in return. “I suppose. I have a better start than others.” He slipped his deck into a beaten case and placed it into a bag at his hip. “Want to go back to the reception? We could try to cheer up Alfred.”

Matthew nodded and stood, holding out a hand for Arthur to take. Arthur grasped Matthew’s hand and stood before letting go.


	7. Chapter 7

As the Jack of Spades oversaw the preparations for inviting the Spades Ace and other wild-goose-chase things the Queen had sent him on, Arthur dug through the papers, pictures, books, and scrolls in the Jack’s private library. It wasn’t large. That was a relief; most information could be shared with the public. Or. The royals. Note to self, Arthur thought, build a better library for the capital. It wouldn’t be high on the list—it’d have to come after the War.

Or the solution to avoid another War.

After each unsuccessful dive into a piece of literature, Arthur slipped the scroll, book, or letter back into its home as accurately as he could remember. By the time two and a half hours passed, he found himself intermittently glancing at the Jack’s door, expecting Yao to walk in at any second.

Arthur dug his nails into the tip of a journal’s thin spine before easing it down from its dusty perch. He sucked in a swift gasp before handling the partially-tattered journal like an infant. His fingers underlined the title too faded to read, and he barely pinched the spine, allowing gravity to open the journal for him. The parchment’s edges were as dingy a yellow as pyrite, and the scrawling and diagrams lay sprawled around the pages like tens of dead spiders. Arthur leaned over the Jack’s desk, holding the journal directly next to the oil lamp and squinting to make sense of the old writing.

Arthur’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Aces…” He thought out loud, “the Balance… So… The Aces’ power are like…” He squinted as he eyed the fading diagrams. “Sand, I suppose. Or water? Or dirt… Damn it, just pour it all out, then. Everyone’ll be on equal footing,” he muttered, annoyed with the pointless analogy.

He gently turned the page as if it were made of dust. On the next page were drawings of four containers, each with a Cards symbol. Arthur’s movements slowed down to a hesitant freeze as he recognized the symbol of Spades drawn on a clock. His eyes flicked to the other four ‘containers,’ and he noted them as the other queens’ Heirlooms. As everyone knew, each Heirloom had its own strengths…and the Spades Heirloom was rarely needed.

Arthur let out a small sigh and turned the page back to the Aces. He eyed the Aces’ four, labeled containers—each one different in behavior, but similar in structure. Arthur tapped a finger against a string of words along the bottom of the page. His gaze narrowed.

“… This is newer than the rest…”

The ink was substantially bolder despite time’s efforts to fade it. Arthur trailed his finger along the page as he enunciated the older habits of the language. His pocket grew warm. He went silent. After dipping his hand in his pocket, Arthur set his Queen’s Heirloom out in front of him. His eyes passed between the journal and the Heirloom. Again, Arthur spoke the words.

The Queen’s Heirloom creaked open, and flecks of the Spades power hummed into existence. Arthur’s words trailed off. Soon after, his Heirloom dulled and creaked closed.

A foreboding chill gripped Arthur and left him exhilarated. “A Queen’s…” His finger felt the newer ink.

There was new magic. A way to access the Spades power by just speaking a spell. What did it do?? Just…access it? That’d help them enough already. After struggling to claw out bits and pieces of the Spades power, knowing that there was a better way to summon power set Arthur’s mind at ease. At least he wouldn’t be useless if the War came to bloodshed. Since he rarely ever touched the Spades power, he was sure an enormous amount was built up and held within the Heirloom.

Held…

Power held…

Arthur stared at the Ace diagrams as if he was trying to burn a hole through the page.

Could it…be…transferred?

Why else would the power be drawn as cups, bowls, vases, or vials?

Arthur’s finger tapped against the spell as he ran his way through his thoughts. “Pour it out. Everyone will be equal… Makes for a fair War. What if…” Arthur dragged his gaze from the Ace diagrams to his closed Heirloom. “Then I could… If I had it all…”

His lips pulled into a tentative grin. He’d found his answer.

Arthur flipped through the other pages, less careful with them than the previous ones. Every few pages detailed information on each of the Queens’ Heirlooms and their purpose. Hearts’s pages featured muses, art, and nature along with a brief history of the Hearts queens and their time with the Heirloom. Clubs had few pages, but the information was more concise. Certain imperative minerals were recorded alongside their purposes. Drawings of wealth and food decorated the corners of Diamonds’s pages. Their queens’ histories were listed between charts. Arthur reached the end of Diamond’s section. A thrill ran through him at the thought of finally finding a detailed history of the various Queens of Spades. He turned the Diamonds’s final page.

Arthur flinched away from the journal and sucked in a gasp as he went.

The Spades Queens didn’t have any words. The drawings featured the open Heirloom along with bodies scrawled onto the page—some trapped as a strings of lines drawn back to the Heirloom. Smears of dried blood littered the section. All in a line around the journal’s edges, all at rushed angles. It was as if someone sliced their thumb open once every thirty years and stamped it against the pages. The first few smears were a dingy, faded brown—still existing, still there.

Arthur panted softly before he took control of his breath. He shook his head in panicked disbelief as he flipped through the pages again. The other explanations were so eloquent! Why was Spades—the technological spearhead of the century—saddled with something belonging on cave walls?! Why would food, iron, wealth, and art flow out of the other Heirlooms, but all Spades had were corpses?

“An omen…?” Arthur murmured to himself and turned the pages back to the Ace diagrams. “… Well. I’ll just have to end the War before it can happen.” Without wasting another second, he grabbed a spare sheet of paper and scribbled down the spell written by a former Queen—he assumed—before placing the journal back where he’d found it, resting his hand on the bookcase.

Yao opened the door and froze, temporarily startled by Arthur’s presence. “What are you doing in here, Your Highness? Looking through my library?”

Arthur nodded quickly, then slower. He bit his bottom lip. “… Yes—well. I was looking for an answer. Did you send out Ace Matthew’s invitation?” His gaze met Yao’s.

Yao stepped over and gently pulled Arthur’s hand from the books’ spines before releasing it. “Yes. The letter should reach him by noon tomorrow. If he responds immediately, we should see him in two days’ time.” Yao lifted an eyebrow, skeptical about Arthur’s staring. “Are you alright?”

“Fine. Yes, fine.” Arthur cleared his throat before stuffing his note in his pocket and heading for the door. “Thank you, Yao. Good night.”

“Arthur—”

Arthur glanced back at Yao, who pointed at the desk. Arthur eyed the Queen’s Heirloom left on Yao’s desk. He gulped back a curse and scooped up the Heirloom. With a hurried, “Thank you, Yao,” Arthur left the Jack’s office, ready to figure out how to use the mysterious spell and borrow the Aces’ power or be swallowed within a world of moral chaos while trying.


	8. Chapter 8

Natalya squinted at the skyline and dug a nail into her walking stick. The mountainside was silent, save for the songs and sounds of the evening dinners at the mountain’s base. The stone Natalya sat on was dry while every other surface around her was frosted with snow. The sun meandered down to touch the horizon, still bathing Natalya with its rays. Clubs had already been doused with night.

She had a choice: go back home to the spring or down to the Clubs castle to join the King, Queen, and Jack for dinner. Her sharp gaze drifted down the snow to eye the mountain pass entrance. A woman stood there by the carved stone plaque, waving at Natalya.

Natalya crinkled her nose and took one last look at the sun creeping below the horizon before deciding it was fine to leave her seat. She let out a sigh and edged off the cliff.

The woman’s arm froze, and she nearly tripped on her way towards where she thought Natalya would land. She threw her arms out in a panic.

Natalya’s body slowed to a delicate drop into the woman’s hold. She glanced up at the other. Her typical frown met the other’s relieved smile. “Yekaterina, you know I’ll be fine.”

Yekaterina nodded, her platinum bangs bouncing above her eyes. “Yes, but…”

Natalya’s frown softened, and she glanced away before climbing down from Yekaterina’s arms. “The sun’s off.” The snow crunched beneath her boots as she headed into the homey capital.

Yekaterina’s steps quickened until she walked beside Natalya. “What do you mean? It always sets that way this time of year.” Her eyes widened, and she looked down at Natalya. “You mean,” her voice lowered, “is it Ace business?”

Natalya glanced to the side and let out a frustrated huff. She craned her head up to meet Yekaterina’s eyes. The other was at least two heads taller than her. “It’s _off._ It _always_ sets the same way each year on this day, but it’s _off._ It went to the right.”

Yekaterina peered through the clearings of the capital city at purple streaks which followed the horizon. “I didn’t notice.” Her gaze passed between houses. “They didn’t notice. How much was it off?” Yekaterina shrugged her coat off her shoulders and glanced behind them at Natalya’s footsteps—and at the melted snow in their wake.

Natalya shrugged. “A hair? Just enough that I saw.” She weaved between an alleyway and a few shop carts as Yekaterina followed.

Yekaterina pulled her coat back over her shoulders. “You’re telling the King…, right?”

“ _Of course_ I’m telling the King,” Natalya huffed and sent a frustrated look back at Yekaterina. She walked into a clearing and brushed any snow from her pale wool dress. “You think I’d keep something like that from the Clubs Royals?”

“No.” Yekaterina frowned, more confused than hurt, and walked before Natalya, heading into the Clubs castle. “I just don’t know what it means. Maybe he’ll know.”

Natalya fell in line behind Yekaterina. Not even she knew exactly why.

The two passed through the entrance hall, its ceilings, floors, and walls made of solid stone. An official banner hung here and there, but dust congregated in the castle’s corners as mist clung to the thick glass windows.

Yekaterina entered the dining hall first. The King, Queen, and Jack sat at a heavy wood table with plenty of space for half the capital to join them. A fireplace which could fit ten men roared behind the trio, pumping waves of heat throughout the room. The three’s conversation paused as they met Yekaterina’s eyes.

Yekaterina dipped into a deep bow. “Your Highnesses, I apologize for interrupting, but I must deliver a report.”

The Queen rested her chin in her hand as her relaxed gaze passed over Yekaterina. The Jack set his fork against his plate, and the King sat up straight. “Roderich,” he whispered. The Jack tugged the candlestick out of the King’s line of sight.

Yekaterina glanced up to see she’d been given permission. Her eyes fell to the stone floor again. “Allow me to present Ace Natalya.”

Natalya stepped through the doorway, her shoes thumping against the floor until she reached the gold-accented rug. She remained standing at the end of the wood table, and she clasped her hands behind her back before giving the royals a respectful nod. “King Ivan, Queen Elizabeta, Jack Roderich, I saw something wrong.” Yekaterina stood and remained in her place behind Natalya.

Elizabeta’s hair spilled past her shoulder and bounced as she straightened her posture and tucked her hands in her lap. “Something pointing towards a War?” It was about time. Not that it was a good thing by any stretch of the imagination, but…it was about time.

Natalya’s lips pressed together in a thin line, and she glanced away. She pulled her gaze from one side of the room to the other. “It’s… A War will come. Yes.” She met the royals’ eyes, her own filled with a fiery determination. “But Cards is off. The Balance is beginning to shift. It’s not like anything I’ve seen. Anything the other Aces have seen.” She shook her head and took a step back as her gaze traveled down the table’s wood grain. “It’s not like anything the Jokers told us of—the sunset was wrong!” She dug her nails into her fingers. “I always watch it. It always sets the same way each day, but it _tilted_ tonight. There’s no other way to—”

“Ace Natalya—” Jack Roderich stood, “—how much did it tilt? Does it mean something’s happened?”

“Just enough.” Her hands fell to her sides. “I saw it tilt just enough to bother me. I’ll send out a message to the other Aces, and I’ll wait to hear from them. Nothing seems different enough here—it must be somewhere else. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but be prepared.”

“What’s the worst we could be up against?” Queen Elizabeta turned in her chair, facing Natalya more. “Clubs knows how to prepare for War, but if this is so different and alarming, then what’s the worst that can happen?”

“Did the Jokers change something?” King Ivan lifted an eyebrow. His stare was that of a firm and concerned King rather than a scolding parent.

Natalya’s shoulders slackened ever so slightly, and her gaze fell to the side. “They…likely would be… Playful. If they wanted to play a joke on me. Shifting the sun a foot or two isn’t a good enough use of their time.” She mumbled under her breath, “And it’d be a waste of _your_ time for me to tell you.”

Roderich’s gaze passed between the other two monarchs’ before falling onto Natalya again. “As someone so in touch with Cards’s Balance, what do you advise us to do?”

Natalya lifted her chin and took in a breath to strengthen her resolve. “Be wary. Watch Clubs’s resources. Queen Elizabeta, keep an eye on your Heirloom’s reserves. You’ll have to save it and let it out sparingly.”

Elizabeta’s eyebrows drew together as a nail tapped against the staff in her lap. “If I don’t dip into my Heirloom’s reserves, our mines may produce fewer resources. Diamond, iron, coal—we need it all to keep our economy running smoothly. I can’t let it falter during wartime.”

“If it comes to you having to fight, my Queen, you need enough power in your reserves.” Natalya paused, remembering not to take a tone. This was something new—nothing they knew how to deal with.

Elizabeta offered a small but warm smile. “We’ll have to do as much mining as possible until then. Besides, we have you, Ace Natalya. If things get too gritty, we can rely on you to help. No matter how much fight everyone puts up, we’ll be fine. Even if Spades does tap into its potential.” After a pause, Elizabeta frowned, some light leaving her eyes. “That isn’t what this is about, right? Arthur hasn’t tapped into his Heirloom, has he?”

A wave of realization hit Natalya. Her eyes widened and she dug a nail into her finger in thought. “It’s—”

“He doesn’t seem like the type,” Ivan murmured.

Elizabeta sent him a sideways glance. “They never do.”

“We would’ve heard something—” Roderich set the candlestick on the chair beside him, freeing up all their vision, “—News travels quickly.”

Ivan mused, “Instant news?”

“That’s what this is.” Roderich gestured a hand towards the Ace. “Natalya’s telling us now. That’s fairly instantaneous. I’d rather it be in a proper letter, but the sun tilting is enough indication that the Balance is awry.”

“But wouldn’t it be in Balance if the Spades Queen _finally_ opened his reserves?” Ivan lifted an eyebrow. “Hasn’t it all been off-balance until now? Is that enough to make the sun tilt?”

Roderich opened his mouth to throw out a response before Natalya cleared her throat. “Your Highnesses,” she raised her voice.

Elizabeta relaxed back in her seat. “We’re sorry, Natalya. What were you going to say?”

Natalya’s cold eyes drifted down to the floor. “… If the Queen of Spades tapped into his Heirloom, he would’ve had to do the unspeakable. He would’ve had to draw blood.” She shook her head. “But it wouldn’t make the sun tilt.” Her gaze lifted. “We’re dealing with something worse than a fully-realized Queen of Spades, and I don’t know what it is. My advice…is to prepare for a hard War. The worst one yet.”


	9. Chapter 9

Matthew sipped the tea offered to him. Arthur dug his nails into the palm of his hand. Matthew set down his tea cup with a soft clink. The breeze rustled the leaves above them before passing over the rest of the royal garden.

“Matthew.”

Matthew’s eyebrows tilted up ever so slightly, and his delicate smile twitched wider, silently giving Arthur his attention.

Arthur, much in contrast to Matthew’s heavily peaceful appearance, was haggard. He’d been struggling with the knowledge he seized in the Jack’s private library. He let out a weary sigh. “… We’re…going to have another War.”

Matthew’s smile shrunk. He’d be happy to have Arthur lean on his shoulder for moral support, but anything beyond that would be…frowned upon. “This is conversation, right?”

Arthur’s eyes fell down to Matthew’s cup. He thought conducting business in the royal garden would strengthen his resolve. Days of spending breakfasts and lunches in the garden with Alfred had him comfortable the second he stepped out of his bedroom door. Save for right now.

“Arthur?”

“No, I’m afraid it isn’t.”

“Arthur…” Matthew’s tone fell like a disappointed mother’s.

Arthur pressed his open palms against his knees to avoid his fidgeting. “I don’t want it. Another War. I want to do everything I possibly can to avoid it. I want to go as far as inviting the other kings to Spades to somehow bandage the rising tensions.”

Matthew let out a laugh which he disguised as a cough.

Embarrassment burned Arthur’s cheeks. “I _understand,”_ he spoke through gritted teeth, “that it’d look more like I want to just kill them all with one fell swoop and win three kingdoms.” His tenseness eased. “But I honestly want to avoid casualties. I’m sure they do, too. All the kings are young. Too young. It’s far too early for a War to take place.” After a pause, he added, “I want balance.”

Matthew’s sudden mirth fled him. “I’m not sure what you want me to do. Perhaps meet in the kingdom between everyone? Diamonds? King Ivan would appreciate the shorter trip. If you’re all in Diamonds, you’ll be fine. There’s plenty of land surrounding the capital. Perfect for fleeing.”

“I don’t appreciate your joking.”

“I’m not.” Matthew’s gentle smile fell into a frown. “I think the best idea is to meet up, bond, and solve whatever problems the kingdoms are going through. …And perhaps slow down on innovations. Maybe.”

“Are you saying it’s better to stop the pursuing of science in favor of letting a few people feel a little more comfy in their decrepit world?”

Matthew winced and hooked a finger around his teacup handle. “I didn’t say _that._ I meant that…with the weapon advances Spades has, I would be concerned, too. If I was a king. Or queen. Or anyone who doesn’t live in Spades.” He took a sip from his cup.

“We can’t halt our factories and advances in the name of—”

“—Peace?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth, Matthew.”

“You’re doing the same with me.” Matthew gulped down the rest of the tea in his cup before setting it down with a slightly louder clink than before. He moved to stand. “If you don’t have anything—”

Arthur poured Matthew another cup as he kept his gaze locked with the Ace’s. With a disgruntled frown, Matthew sat back down and stared at the tea in his cup. Arthur set the tea pot down. “It’d be rude to leave without finishing your tea.”

“I know.”

“I’d advise you not guzzle it down.”

“Thank you,” Matthew murmured and trailed his finger down the tea cup’s side. “You have more to say?”

“I do.” Arthur’s eyes rested on Matthew’s finger stroking the tea cup. “I searched through my Jack’s library.”

The finger froze before continuing its motion.

“I found something that—well… Some _things_ that may help me control the flow of this War. So everyone lives. So there are no casualties. No fires. No destruction. Aren’t you interested?” Arthur’s eyebrows drew together as his gaze flew up from Matthew’s finger to his face. “I know you have to keep the Balance first, but can’t you appreciate a peaceful existence before a traditional War?”

“Of course I can.” Matthew sat up and met Arthur’s gaze. “Stop pretending you want balance and peace in Cards.”

Arthur’s pleading expression melted into confusion. “I’m…not pretending.”

“You’re pretending, Queen of Spades. You don’t want balance or peace. You don’t care about the other kingdoms. You only care about how the War will affect _you_ and King Alfred.”

Arthur smacked his hands down on the table and stood, glaring Matthew down. “I suggest you think more on your words before you speak. And think about who you’re talking to.”

“Queen of Spades, I said.” Matthew leaned back against his chair and held the tea cup before taking a sip. “I don’t care about your real motivation, but…don’t try to trick me. Right now your well-being and King Alfred’s well-being line up with the needs of your people. Which is great. For now.” He set down his cup.

Arthur shoved his anger away and took his seat again, feeling a sense of sheepishness overtake him. “I apologize for my outburst.”

“No problem.”

Arthur’s eyes fell down to the table. “I was looking through the Jack’s library to find something to avoid another War. And I found some things.”

“I’m interested.”

Arthur lifted his chin to meet Matthew’s gaze. A soft warmth filled him as Matthew made an effort to focus on the situation despite Arthur’s outburst. “The text I found more or less said…that an Ace’s power is transferable.”

“No.”

Worry washed over Arthur. “You don’t even know what I was going to suggest.”

Matthew shook his head before gulping down his second cup of tea and setting it down. “Doesn’t matter. If it involves transferring an Ace’s power, it’s bad news.”

Arthur pointedly frowned and filled Matthew’s cup again with the remaining tea.

Matthew let out a frustrated huff.

“If I had all the Ace’s powers—all four—then the only beings that could stand a chance against me would be the Jokers. I could just say that we’ll all live peacefully. And we will.”

“Until something happens to King Alfred.”

“Nothing will happen to him.” Arthur set the tea pot down. Determination filled his eyes. “We won’t have a War ever again. No more dead kings.”

Matthew pressed a hand against his chest and glared down at his cup. Once he’d gathered himself, he rested his hands in his lap. “It’s wrong.”

“How can it be?”

“You’re just a human, Arthur. _Please,_ drop the subject. I don’t want to see you as a danger to the Balance. It’s going to be hard to accept King Alfred’s death when it comes along, but…you can get through it.” Matthew gulped down his third cup of tea.

Arthur’s hand pulled into a fist in his silent frustration, and his head fell forward to hide the temptation of frustrated tears.

Matthew set down his cup and stood before taking Arthur’s fist and giving it a small squeeze. “When it happens, I’ll help. You don’t have to face his death alone. He wouldn’t want you to anyway. …Are you going to be alright if I leave you for right now, Arthur?”

Arthur’s fist slackened, and he gave Matthew’s hand a slight squeeze in return. He nodded before pulling his hand away from Matthew’s.

Mostly satisfied with the conversation’s end, Matthew stepped back inside the royal bedroom. Arthur knew he was gone when he’d heard his bedroom door close.


	10. Chapter 10

The King of Diamonds shed off his coat and hung it from the decorative coat hanger. He let out a tired sigh and rubbed at his eye before looking out at his kingdom below. He rested a hand against the balcony doorway. The chilling breeze was sobering—comforting, even—until the aromatic candles blew out. A single hum yanked Francis’s eyes from his kingdom. The king froze in fear when his gaze landed on a Joker—the smaller of the two.

“King Francis.” Despite the Joker’s knowing grin, something akin to sympathy or pity nestled itself in his eyes.

Francis nodded ever so slightly. “Peter.” He took a step back into the bedroom. “… Would you like to come in?”

Peter marched into the bedroom and pressed a hand against the balcony door when Francis went to close it. Francis released the door’s handle and stepped back. “I’m not staying for long. Gilbert doesn’t even know I’m here.”

“He doesn’t?” Francis asked, unconvinced.

“… Well, maybe he does.” Peter shrugged as if they were talking about something simple like food preference. “I gotta tell you. I’m sure you noticed the tension. Clubs’s mines are turning up empty, the citizens in Hearts keep painting scenes of destruction, and Spades’s technological advances are booming. They must be jealous of your wealth and food.”

Francis chose his words carefully. Every sentence was a mind game with the Jokers. Who could guarantee that Peter was even telling the truth? “That’s the nature of my kingdom’s land. Diamonds was built up on farming, and since we’re at the center of Cards, trade merchants pass through constantly. We’re smart with our money, and we care for those that need it.”

“Helps that Lilli’s Heirloom keeps those fields nice and fertile, huh? And fair weather keeps your citizens happy and sedate.” Peter took a seat in Francis’s desk chair, feeling at home.

“The social programs help with that as well. Not everything is about magic,” Francis muttered as he eyed Peter lounging about. “What’s this about the tension? You’re under the impression that there’s another War coming?”

Peter, again, shrugged. “Don’t have to think about it. I already know. …I also know about Heirlooms and fortunes—what might happen, how it might happen. Y’know.” He leaned on one arm rest, leaving his fingers to tap against the other. “There’re many things that can happen this time around. Diamonds could end up winning after beating everyone over their heads with money. Clubs could grab their pickaxes and take everyone by surprise. Hearts could find some way to appeal to everyone’s interests and win the world that way.”

“And Spades?” Francis lifted an eyebrow, wanting Peter to get to his point.

“Well.” Peter tapped against the arm rest. “We’ve got our eye on the Spades Queen.”

“…Not on their inventions?”

“The inventions help.” Peter stretched and let out a yawn before nuzzling against the chair like a child up past their bed time. “But the Spades Queen’s Heirloom is what _I_ want to watch. You know how Lilli’s power works. She uses it all the time. Those fertile fields and fair weather and whatever.”

“Yes.” Francis’s fear had long disappeared. This Joker seemed too content to be dangerous. And _that_ was worrying. He’d be safe for now, but Peter’s amusement meant danger was on the horizon. “All of our queens are going to use their Heirlooms in the War effort. Everyone will be equally matched. Isn’t that the point of your sick entertainment?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Here.” He placed a decrepit journal on Francis’s desk. “You’re gonna need it when you realize what’s going on. At base value, all the Heirlooms are equal. But they work in different ways and fuel different behaviors or different worldly functions. Read up on your history and figure it out. Then this’ll mean something to you.” Without another word, the Joker disappeared into thin air and the aromatic candles flickered on again.

Francis peered around the room before pulling the balcony doors closed. He muttered to himself. Well, at least Peter had made the visit before he’d actually gone to bed. “Heirlooms,” he hummed. Francis knew about the Diamonds Heirloom inside and out. The Clubs and Hearts Heirlooms were known as well. But the Spades Heirloom merely sat around and looked pretty. Spades had to catch up to the rest of the world somehow since the physical world of Cards just wasn’t kind to their landmass—which was heavily ocean, anyway. Of course they have tons of innovation. Things didn’t just work out for them. Francis let out a sigh. “The Spades Heirloom is useless.” Save for the fairy tale curse attached. The absurdity of it brought a hint of amusement to Francis.

He picked up the journal from his desk and held it next to one of the candles to read it. His gaze narrowed as he read nearly-faded words. He turned over the pages. After a moment of silence, he pulled out parchment and a pen. He flicked open the cap to his inkwell and dipped in his pen as he looked over the pages Peter had given him.

“Francis?”

King Francis peered up to see Queen Lilli standing in the doorway. All her regal silks, lace, bows, and jewels were placed in her wardrobe, leaving her in one of her favorite simple nightgowns. She gave him a smile. “I thought you’d be asleep. What’s that?” He’d never seen a smile like Lilli’s, so small and so filled with unconditional care. If Francis didn’t know any better, he would’ve assumed that Lilli had been born from lambs and warm sunlight. Her smile faltered as she took notice of how Francis’s hair spilled from his ribbon and how his handwriting had become frantic. “Francis…”

He remembered himself, and his eyes fell down to the page again. “I had a visit from Peter.”

“What does a Joker want?”

Francis knew that if he looked up, he’d see Lilli’s face scrunched up with defensive disdain. Despite how soft she was, the sheathed dagger tethered to her hip ensured that no one person would take advantage of and squander her kindness and generosity. Francis couldn’t name someone better suited to carry the beautiful but sharp Diamonds Heirloom.

Lilli rested a hand on Francis’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze of urgency.

Francis met her eyes. “Forgive me. Peter left me with this.” His gaze fell down to the decrepit journal. “He mentioned that he and Gilbert are interested in watching to see what Arthur does with the Spades Heirloom.” He shrugged. “He can be…curt, but Arthur wouldn’t fall into the fairytale. He’d never be able to draw blood. It’s absurd.” He looked to Lilli again. “Even then, it’s a myth. Spades has had strong Queens, but the Jokers assigned strong people for the position.”

“Mm.” Lilli circled Francis’s chair and leaned over the journal.

“The thought that an Heirloom can control a Queen is absurd.” Francis rolled his eyes and directed his attention to the journal. “It’s not as if any of the other Heirlooms have power over the other Queens. They’re tools to use for a kingdom’s prosperity. And if the Jokers and Aces are so obsessed with Balance, all the Heirlooms would work the same.”

“Mm.” Her soft fingers dipped between pages, giving each one a thorough read-through before passing onto the next page. “This…looks a little like…a Queen’s journal.”

“A Queen’s? Wouldn’t it make more sense to be a Jack’s?”

Lilli shook her head and flipped through a couple pages.

“But the Jack records historic events like these…histories.” Francis’s eyes passed over a concise history of the Diamonds Queens. “Why would a Queen write these down if they could just visit their Jack’s library?”

Lilli paused on one of the Spades pages. She jabbed her finger at the journal, her nail crinkling the page. “Because of this.” Beneath her nail was a string of words grouped together. Even when keeping an old dialect in mind, it was difficult to comprehend so Francis hadn’t given it thought yet. She untethered her dagger from her side and guided the blade out of its jeweled sheath. “Watch the blade.” She set the dagger down beside the journal and squinted at the spell. In her best efforts, she spoke the words in an old Spades dialect. A glow stuttered to life along the blade.

Francis’s eyes widened. Why would a Jack know a spell specifically tied to a Queen’s Heirloom? “Did you know because it’s a Queen’s spell?”

Lilli broke off her concentration in favor of the dagger resting—and to shake off the spell. “A Jack doesn’t really need to know a Queen’s Heirloom-specific spell.” She shrugged. “That’s the Queen’s job, isn’t it?” Her nose scrunched, and she took a step back from the journal as she sheathed her Heirloom. “That spell’s wrong.”

Francis lifted his pen. “How is it wrong?” He began scribbling down any information he could.

Lilli shook her head ever so slightly. “I felt…the energy shift. It felt wrong. …It’ll feel better soon.”

Francis’s pen slowed. He reached back and held Lilli’s hand. Lilli’s lips tugged into a relieved smile, and she gave Francis’s hand a small squeeze. His pen began writing again.


	11. Chapter 11

“I don’t like it.”

The King of Hearts lifted his gaze from the letters in his hand to see Ace Lovino’s frown split his face. “What don’t you like?”

Lovino glared at the throne room floor; he’d rather spit his anger at it than at the King and Queen. “The Spades Queen’s inviting you to a different kingdom! That’s so—” He let out a frustrated huff and looked to Queen Kiku. “And just the kings? That’s suspicious! He could wipe them all out in an instant!”

Kiku gave Lovino a skeptical look.

“…Okay, maybe not in an instant.” Lovino paused, allowing his anger to subside a bit. “The kings can hold their own, yeah, but c’mon. Arthur’s not asking the Aces or Queens or Jacks to join—just the kings. What, so he can have an assassin or his own—” The word ‘ace’ died on his lips. As much as he would’ve liked to assume that Arthur would use his Ace against everyone…he could never see Matthew condemning the Balance no matter what kind of personal interests he had.

“Perhaps that is why he explicitly said he won’t be joining.” King Ludwig flipped through the pages of the letter. “If we were to only have one queen there, I’d prefer Kiku. But Lilli is impartial. Diamonds is the safest place for everyone. The letter even has the King of Spades seal—and an addition from Lilli.”

Kiku looked at the letters over Ludwig’s shoulder. “And the King of Diamonds’s seal.”

Postage stamps from Spades and Diamonds littered the envelope the letters came in. Lovino crossed his arms, still dissatisfied. “What, so he went through the right channels. Does that make him an angel? Should we just crown him Ace King? Or Joker, even?? Let’s crown him Joker if he has all of Cards’s best interests in mind!”

“Ah, there is a note from Ace Antonio,” Ludwig murmured.

“What—”

“He says he’s disappointed he’ll have to leave the capital during the meeting, but he doesn’t mind a little vacation.” Ludwig’s locked with Lovino’s. “In the Diamonds countryside. By himself. Without anyone.”

Lovino’s face screwed up with contemplation, frustration, and…temptation. Every decision was a heavy one for him. “Well. If he’s going to beg. I could…stop by… I’m still against this king’s meeting.”

“If you’re just ‘stopping by’ in the Diamonds countryside, you have less distance to travel if something goes wrong.” Kiku’s lips pulled into a gentle smile. “We’re depending on you.”

Lovino nodded. “I’ll…get my horse ready. I’d better get there before you, King Ludwig. Just in case.” He bowed his head briefly. “My King, my Queen,” he murmured, wanting to give them proper respect before he’d take off.

* * *

Jack Feliciano’s eyebrows pulled together as he watched the waterfall. “Well… It’s definitely…flowing.” His gaze traveled down the fall to the rocks at the bottom. The dry rocks. And the dry, dirt riverbed. Feliciano knelt by the riverbed and felt the dry dirt and pebbles. He stared at the gallons of water disappearing as each droplet smashed against the dry rocks. After a moment, he jumped up and shoved his arm into the waterfall, soaking half his body.

The villager beside him flinched at the sudden action as she watched, perplexed.

Feliciano rested his wet hand on the rocks and pulled it away. The water left there evaporated nearly instantly. “Mm.” He jumped up and hurried off to a nearby patch of flowers.

“Jack Feliciano…?” The villager called out.

“Still checking.” He dug his fingers into the dirt and pulled up a flower with a moist patch of dirt underneath it. His pace quickened as he hurried back to the dry riverbed. “Look at the riverbed. Look at how dry it is.”

“Yes…that’s my problem. I need to get water.”

Feliciano dug a hole in the riverbed and pressed the flower and its moist dirt clump in it. He buried the dirt clump and watched the flower.

“I mean…I suppose I could get it from the waterfall, but… I can’t understand this. It seemed important to tell you.”

“Thank you.” The flower waved in the waterfall’s breeze, until it shriveled into ash. The villager gasped. Feliciano dug his fingers into the disturbed patch to feel nothing but dry dirt. His eyebrows furrowed in a quiet anger. He stood before giving the villager a polite smile. “I’m sorry. The waterfall will have to do for now.”

“Ah—thank. Thank you, Jack Feliciano,” the villager called after Feliciano as the other hurried off to the castle.

* * *

Arthur knelt down on his bedroom patio, saucer in hand. His tongue clicked a couple times, and the black cat he’d seen dash around the royal garden poked her head out from under a bush. Arthur set down the saucer before him, making sure the cat felt she had enough room to run away if need be. He rested his hands in his lap as he watched her with an unflinching gaze.

The cat trotted over, her fluffy tail perfectly straight up and swaying as if to say hello.

The bedroom door opened and closed within the same breath. “Arthur?” Alfred called. His voice cut off when he saw the breeze brush against the bedroom curtains. With a smile, he hurried to the doorway before freezing at the sight of the cat. “Aw,” he hummed and squatted beside Arthur. “Art, it’s cute. I didn’t know you had a pet kitty.”

“I don’t,” Arthur murmured as the cat sniffed at the dark liquid in the saucer. “I’ve just noticed her during the meals I’ve spent alone.”

Alfred winced and glanced at Arthur. “Sorry. It’s been…busy. Still is. I only have like a minute.”

A light of realization filled Arthur’s eyes, and he met Alfred’s gaze. “No, it’s—I. I didn’t mean it that way. I wasn’t…” He watched the cat lick at the liquid. “It wasn’t a jab.”

Alfred’s knees hit the patio as he got comfortable and rested a head on Arthur’s shoulder. “What’s that you’re giving him? What’s his name?”

“She doesn’t have a name.” Arthur’s attention focused again. “I mixed a natural tranquilizer in her water.”

Alfred’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What’re you doing that for?”

The cat lapped at the liquid as her eyelids began drooping. She paused between licks as if she was wondering whether or not it was okay to guzzle down more.

“She was getting hissy. It’s to placate her.”

“Well, she looks tired and friendly now,” Alfred murmured. “… What’re you doing that for?”

Arthur let out a soft sigh, thinking on it. “She gave birth to kittens in one of our bushes. I want to gather them all and give them a good home, but every time I go near her bush, she hisses and spits at me.” He shrugged. “She doesn’t understand that I’m doing it for her own good—for her and her kittens. All she sees is someone stronger than her getting close to her babies.” He nodded his head towards the cat. “Hence the tranquilizer. I’ll gather her babies once I know she’s out.”

Alfred’s lips pulled into a smile. A part of him was excited to see that even so close to another War, something happy happened. When he had the time, he’d visit the mother cat and her kittens. The cat’s head drooped, and her body all but fell down against the patio. Alfred sucked in a breath of panic before he leaned forward and picked her up. He set her down in front of him and Arthur and stroked her back. When she didn’t shift, Alfred bit his bottom lip. “Was that too much??”

Arthur’s gaze narrowed, and he shifted the cat on her side. “Watch her stomach. Make sure she breathes. I made sure to only use a little, and I diluted it on top of that.”

Alfred watched the cat’s stomach intensely, his heart pounding. “C’mon, kitty.” He nuzzled a finger against her cheek. It took a moment, but her stomach rose and fell with the sign of breathing. Alfred let out a heavy sigh of relief. “She’s okay. How much tranquilizer did you use?”

“Just a pinch of an herb. I melted it with the water.” Arthur cautiously pulled the cat into his arms and cradled her as if she was a newborn baby. “I won’t even use it for her kittens. Could you bring in the saucer?”

“Yeah.” Alfred picked up the saucer as Arthur carried the cat into their room and set her on the bed. Arthur placed her on her side to ensure she could breathe. Alfred set the saucer down on Arthur’s desk. “Need help bringing in the kittens?”

Arthur shook his head as he rushed to his desk and scribbled down the tranquilizer’s result. “They’re going to be easy. Just have to pick them up. And you have to get back to work. Preparing a case for the king’s meeting isn’t going to be a walk in the park.”

Alfred frowned and leaned down, blocking Arthur’s view of his work.

Arthur lifted an eyebrow. “You’re not going to ask me again, are you?”

Alfred glanced away and shrugged. “Maybe I’ll get a different answer this time.”

“No.” Arthur set down his pen and stood up straight to speak like an adult who just _knew_ that Alfred would keep on asking anyway.

“M’kay, well. Come with me to the king’s meeting.”

“It’s a _king’s_ meeting. I’m not a king.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to stay out of the country.” Alfred rested his hands on Arthur’s shoulders. “C’mon, I can’t even take _Yao?_ I get that I can’t take Mattie, but _Yao?”_

Arthur crossed his arms, prepping his excuses as he went. “The letter says it’ll be a king’s meeting. A king’s meeting happens when the four kings get together to work out their problems with each other.”

“But _you’re_ the one who wrote the letter,” Alfred groaned. “Why can’t you just say—no, just—why did you even say it had to be a king’s meeting? I want you there! I want you there to put my thoughts into other people’s words! And. I want you with me. A War’s coming! We don’t have enough time together left…”

At that, Arthur’s attitude prickled as his face screwed into a mix of disgust and anger. “There _won’t_ be a War since you’re going to work out everything with the other kings. We’re going to make up a treaty of some kind stating we’ll all abide by whatever rules we have to abide by in order to _avoid_ this War.”

“It’s impossible to avoid a War!”

“Of course it’s possible! Just because it hasn’t been done before doesn’t mean it can’t be done now!”

“The Jokers set up Cards to knock it down again, Arthur, can’t you see that?!”

Arthur let out a frustrated huff. “Well—no, they don’t! They’re fate manipulators, but the reason that Wars happen is because the countries get too much bad blood between each other. Governments fall. Ideologies shift and are replaced. Treason, even, think about that!”

Alfred’s jaw locked, and he went silent.

“Leaders can…become corrupted.”

Alfred’s gaze fell away from Arthur, and his grip on Arthur’s shoulders softened considerably.

A bit of relief filled the queen. At least Alfred was showing more of his stubborn side again. “I know the members of the monarchies that’ve been chosen are good people. They love their country, and they want to do well by it. Which is _why_ this king’s meeting has to happen. I know for a fact you’ll all clear up whatever tensions are rising.” Arthur cradled Alfred’s face in his hands, forcing their eyes to meet. “That’s why I’m not worried about your…demise.”

“You’re worried about it.”

“… Well. Yes, alright, yes. Of course I’m worried, but it’s… More like I’m worried about you in general. I always have been.” Alfred watched Arthur with concern nestled in his eyes. A sense of protection, pride, and adoration filled Arthur’s chest and dusted his cheeks. “I _know_ this War won’t happen. Maybe the perfect fortune meant that we wouldn’t have one. Maybe the fact that all the monarchies are more or less pure of heart will save us all. But I can’t be there. There’s still evil in this world. And the Jacks, Queens, and Aces have to watch over their countries and prepare for the worst.” Arthur’s hands drifted down Alfred’s jaw and rested on his chest. “I’ll miss you terribly while you’re gone.”

Alfred smiled and pressed his lips to Arthur’s forehead. His arms wrapped around Arthur, and his eyes rested on the sleeping cat. “I get it,” Alfred spoke against Arthur’s forehead. “I’ll miss you, too… You’ll have Mattie to keep you company at least. He’s kinda like me.” Alfred felt Arthur’s body shake with a laugh. “Someone’s gonna come and pack my things while I’m writing up my demands. Don’t scare ‘em.”

“Demands?” Arthur spoke against Alfred’s chest. “Are you holding all of Cards captive?”

“Someone’s gotta sit in the catbird seat.”

Arthur snickered. “Don’t make a dumb move with all that information in your hands.”

“Yeah, I got the best view in the house, babe.” Alfred pulled back and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s lips. “Nothing blocking me but your pretty face.”

A much-needed smile appeared on Arthur’s face. “I’ll get out of your hair, then.” His voice was absent of any bite. “You have to write out your proposal to make Cards a better place.”

Alfred nodded, disappointed that he had to leave his queen alone. “I’ll say bye before I leave for Diamonds tonight.” He gave Arthur a kiss and released him before hurrying out of the bedroom.

Once the door was closed and Alfred’s footsteps gone, Arthur’s frown returned. He thought it terribly cruel that he felt more comfortable in a frown, but how could he help it? He walked over to the bed and lightly ran a hand over the cat’s stomach. “Thank you for helping me test out that potion, Juliet. Without your participation, I could never have marked it as a success.”


	12. Chapter 12

Once upon a time, a little girl watched the Spades Heirloom swallow the Queen of Spades. Though the Queen was gentle but firm in nature, an air of unquenchable desire overtook her. The little girl stared, wide-eyed and petrified, as the Queen ran down the Heirloom’s corrupted slope and utterly devoured the armies around her.

Not all at once, however. One soldier here, one soldier there. Until the Queen’s thirst matched that of an unhinged Joker. Thankfully, it was just a Queen. Not a Joker or an Ace.

The little girl watched as the Spades Queen crashed headfirst into Death and all but dragged it into the Afterlife with her.

Not literally, of course. It was a normal War death. A corrupted Queen of Spades had no place in a fresh Cards—scratched and set up again. So she had to go.

This is how the little girl justified it. Someone who has stared into the prickling, chaotic energy the Spades Heirloom emanated…and smiled…had no place in time and space outside a War. To this day, the little girl’s heartbeat quickens when she remembers the look in the corrupted queen’s eyes--hunger, desire, exhilaration, a sparkle of pleased shock. Had the little girl not known that the Spades Queen had drawn blood, she would think that the Spades Queen found the cure for a major disease. Excitement, determination, wonder, and the sense that she was untouchable. Violet wisps of corruption swam in those elated eyes, and the little girl never forgot it.

On this day, the little girl would show her apprentice the ropes. The look of half-crazed desire was buried deep in the past, and it was her hope that it’d never resurface. How could it if she, as the succeeding Queen of Spades, opted to bury all talk of the supernatural force hidden in the Spades Heirloom? The previous Queen of Spades had gone mad from the passionate love of her country, and she guarded the Spades Heirloom to the very end. Just a passionate woman driven to the edge for a beautiful country.

This is how the current Queen of Spades justified it. “She lives on in our memories as one of the most devoted Queen of Spades, but it is for that reason that I urge you to fight alongside Spades. Not for it.”

The child—no older than ten—looked up to the queen with a perplexed expression. “But if I fight by Spades, then I fight _for_ Spades.”

“Well, yes, for the country, but think deeper.” The queen gazed up at a portrait of the previous queen. Its quiet calm pulled the current queen’s frown into a slight grimace. She swallowed back the disgust she remembered feeling. “Fight alongside Spades’s people. But don’t fight alone. Not ever. You’ll have so  many loyal Spades citizens to help you. The King, the Jack, the Ace, your generals, your soldiers--even your farmers contribute. So you must remember, Arthur.” Her eyes fell down to meet the child’s wide green eyes. “ _Never_ act on your own. Always teamwork. _Always.”_ She could have worded it better, of course, but she never wanted Arthur to get the idea that he had to take matters into his own hands. Once a Spades Queen decided to get into the thick of it, blood would be drawn. Somehow.

Arthur nodded with a hint of uncertainty. He could find a way to get along with Alfred and the Jack. He could find the right balance of compatibility, sure. He just. Had to focus. He had to make sure he could get along with his king. No problem.

“And then there’s me,” the queen’s voice broke the silence. “I’ll be training you to take over as the Queen of Spades for when I can no longer fill the position. The last thing to go over in basics…” She dipped a hand in her pocket and pulled out a clock.

Arthur’s eyebrows pulled together. Intrigue filled him as he watched the queen hold it out to him.

“This is the Spades Heirloom. All the Queens of Spades have guarded this with their lives. You will, too.” She looked to the clock cover’s detailing. “All the other Queens have Heirlooms which provide help to their kingdoms. Our Heirloom, like theirs, contains the hardworking and hopeful spirit of Spades—of all her people. But our Heirloom remains silent, wanting our people to depend on themselves to work through problems rather than on magic. It’s how it looks out for us. Like how the other Heirlooms look out for their countries.”

“It’s beautiful,” Arthur murmured, and he reached to trail a finger down the clock’s side. Once his skin touched the metal, the clock cover shot open, showing its face and startling the Spades Queen and her apprentice. Arthur’s eyes locked with the clock face, thoroughly entranced by its intricate design...and by its reserves. The Queen of Spades snapped the Heirloom closed and tucked it in her pocket as she watched her apprentice’s eyes swim with wonder and desire. “That’s the Spades Heirloom?” He asked, voice full of adoration.

“Yes,” the Spades Queen spoke in a clipped tone. In all her years of acting as the Spades Queen, the watch never warmed with greeting as it did now. It almost felt like burning coal in her pocket. “Arthur—” she gently hooked a finger under his chin to have their eyes meet, “—you can _never_ call on its reserves.”

Arthur’s confusion broke up the bewitched look in his eyes. “Wh—what? I thought the Spades Heirloom just helps quietly. It lets us do things on our own. Right?”

“Promise me. You’ll never call on its reserves.”

“Bu—...” Arthur shook his head lightly, still not grasping what she meant. “I… Promise.”

“You promise what?”

“I _promise_ that I’ll never call on the Spades Heirloom’s reserves…” Hopefully that was what she wanted to hear.

For a moment, she wondered if forcing Arthur to promise that he’d never draw blood would be overkill or imperative. For now, perhaps, she’d leave it alone. Arthur wouldn’t be given the Heirloom for many more years. Not until his coronation. He’ll be given the Heirloom and the Heirloom key to keep it locked up while Arthur slept. There was no way she would let the Heirloom be in anyone’s hands but the Queen of Spades’s.

“If the Heirloom is so awful...why…” Something tugged on Arthur—some unknowing force. Something wanted him to look over this. “Why keep it…? If it doesn’t do anything to help, and if we can’t pull from its reserves...why can’t we smash it…?” He winced.

The Spades Queen stood up straight, giving Arthur his space. “They’re a gift from the Jokers. Each kingdom was given one to solve the problems of Cards. The Jokers are gracious and gave us substitutes to their godly powers. The Heirlooms cannot be destroyed. Think of it like carrying an Ace in your pocket.”

Arthur scrunched up his nose at the thought of carrying another living being around, but he understood her comparison just the same. “So to keep everyone else from getting our Ace, we protect them.”

“That’s right.” She forced a smile. “And it seems like the Heirloom is looking forward to being protected by you.”

Arthur’s lips tugged into a relieved smile. It seemed like whatever was bothering the queen earlier had passed, but it’d be something he’d watch out for in the future.

* * *

Natalya rubbed a thumb against her gold badge. Hers was in the shape of a club. She’d only had it for a week, and she’d already polished it three times. Lovino, on the other hand, kept his hearts badge in his pocket, safe from danger and away from any prying eyes.

“You don’t have to mess with it. It’s just gold,” Lovino huffed.

Natalya’s face, still clinging to her baby fat, scrunched up with distaste. “Gold’s ‘precious.’”

“Yeah—” Lovino rolled his eyes, “—but we don’t have t’pay for anything. ‘Cause we’re _aces._ You’re just not used to it, yet. We’re gonna be aces until we _die.”_

“Stop being weird!” She hissed and pinned her badge in her hair before planting her fists on her hips. “The Jokers made us aces at the same time, Lovi! Don’t be a butt about it!”

“I’m not being a butt, you are!” Lovino huffed and gave Natalya a shove. “And if you _listened_ to the Jokers, then you’d remember that we were always aces. We just got th’badges at the same time.”

Natalya shoved him back. “No, we _earned_ them!”

“Who cares?! We got the gold! We don’t have t’pay for anything! We get whatever we want!” Lovino caught his breath as his face burned red with anger.

Natalya bit her bottom lip and shook her head as if she was trying to shake it off her neck. “No, it’s still precious! Just ‘cause we got ace powers when we were born doesn’t mean we get anything we want!”

“Lovino, Natalya.” Matthew frowned. He’d rounded the corner seconds earlier to find the younger aces hissing and spitting at each other. When he was given his badge at the age of seven, he and Antonio got along just fine. Maybe he was naive to think that it’d be the same with Lovino and Natalya.

The two kids paused their yelling match and looked to Matthew for guidance.

“You were both given the badges, because you have to live up to the honor previous aces have earned while protecting their country.” Matthew nudged the spades badge he had pinned on his chest with a smile. “We all care for the countries we’re assigned to, but we have to keep Cards’s Balance first and foremost.”

Natalya’s face screwed up as she thought about it. “...Gravity works…”

“Yeah, what kinda balance? We’re standing fine,” Lovino huffed.

Matthew, only familiar with his ace duties for the past six years, thought about how to explain it. In fact, he barely grasped it when Gilbert and Peter explained it to him years ago. “Well… Think of it like…” It finally took Antonio’s guidance for Matthew to understand what it meant to be an Ace. His eyes brightened with an idea. “Follow me. I’ll show you how it works.” With that, he turned and hurried out of the room.

Natalya and Lovino followed behind him like lost ducklings. They walked down the halls of the Jokers’ castle...or cavern. Lovino looked out the wall of windows. Miles of grass and farmland pinned down the stone base of the Jokers’ mountain. Further out were Diamonds’s houses and small castles. Traces of Hearts architecture sat on the horizon to the left of Diamonds. The mound of Clubs’s capital city clung to the mountainside to Diamond’s right. Lovino stretched his neck, but found that it’d be impossible to see Spades beyond Diamonds. It was his theory that Gilbert and Peter built Spades so far away they wouldn’t have to look at it. They even went as far as to separate it from the mainland with bodies of water.

Natalya grabbed Lovino’s wrist and pulled him along.

Matthew knocked on Antonio’s open door and poked his head inside. “Antonio?”

Antonio lifted his gaze from the book he was reading and met Matthew’s eyes with an attentive stare and a carefree smile. “Matthew! Come in, come in!” Without a second to lose, Antonio turned his chair and faced the doorway, excited to talk with the younger ace.

Matthew stepped inside and stood aside, looking to the baby aces behind him.

Natalya walked inside Antonio’s room in stride, yanking Lovino behind her.

Lovino bit his bottom lip and gave Antonio a firm nod. “Hi, Ace Antonio…” The room pulled his gaze away from the older ace. All around them were plants and vegetables in various growing stages, all bathed in sunlight streaming through the bedroom’s skylights. Lovino let out a sigh somewhere between awe and touched. The stain glass windows in the ceiling were filled with colors from a candy red, to a lime green, to a space purple. For a moment, tears beaded in Lovino’s eyes.

Natalya jabbed a finger into his side, forcing a yelp out of him.

Lovino gave her a heated glare.

“Do you like my room, Lovino?” Antonio hummed. He sucked in a brief gasp. “Sorry— _Ace_ Lovino.” His eyebrows pulled together, and he gave the trio a sheepish smile.

Lovino nodded eagerly. “Yeah, it’s beautiful, and the light is just so pretty.” He clenched his fists and stared at the floor and its many hues of sunlight. “And! All the plants! The vines are nice, and you got food, too.” Lovino’s cheeks burned. Damn it, why couldn’t he think of better words to describe how Antonio’s room reached into his heart and squeezed it in all the right ways? “It’s just…” Lovino’s gaze met Antonio’s eyes. “...art.”

Antonio beamed and reached for a sprout on his desk. With a brief touch of his fingers, the sprout stretched and stiffened, growing in seconds when it’d take weeks otherwise.

“Antonio.”

Antonio pulled away his fingers and locked his eyes with Matthew’s. The sprout’s growth slowed back to its normal pace, bearing only one very green tomato.

“Natalya and Lovino want to know what it means to protect the Balance.” Matthew’s lips tugged into a wider smile. “I wanted to use the deck to show them what you told me a while ago.”

Antonio nodded and yanked open his desk drawer before pulling out a small box and setting it on his desk. He brushed his book aside and slid the cards out of the deck box. “Balance. To know about that, you have to know about Cards. And about how it’s not the only world.”

Natalya’s eyes widened, and she released her hold on Lovino’s wrist. “But… Like… There’re worlds outside of Cards?”

Antonio tilted his head as he picked up a couple cards and leaned them against each other with careful concentration. “Before, I meant. Before Cards, there was...whatever the Jokers wanted. Whatever they made. They’re the World Builders.” He lowered his voice with a sly smile. “But they’re not good at it.” He leaned another couple cards against each other. “They get too excited, and they skip over stuff. Like how you probably like to get right to your dessert and skip over parts of your meal you don’t like as much. You’re still going to have your meal on your plate. Even if you’re done with dessert.” Antonio set a card on top of the two sets of leaning cards and went right to work on balancing a couple cards on top of that card platform. “But, for the Jokers, they don’t have just a plate for both of them. They have _thousands_ at least. They have to design how many suns Cards has, what the land looks like, where the kingdoms go, and assign the monarchy and ace roles. They _also_ have to calculate exactly what height the sea level has to be at, exactly how hard gravity’ll tug on us, and figure out the formula for running water.” Antonio leaned back, watching his little card house.

Natalya’s head swayed in a hesitant nod. “They got it so our hair doesn’t stand up, but they skipped other things?”

A laugh bubbled in Matthew’s throat.

Antonio gave her a firm nod. “I guess they were focused in weird places. But this is Cards. Beautiful on the outside, but unstable underneath. Right now, it’s balanced.” He let out a heavy sigh. “There’s a War that happens every generation to keep Cards fresh and new.”

“But there’s a lot more to Wars than that. We have to focus on the Balance first.” Matthew winced.

“Yes,” Antonio mused. “There are parts of Cards that are weak, because the formulas are half-baked.” He blew at the card house and watched it fall. “The Jokers knew Cards couldn’t stand on its own. Even though they have godly powers and aren’t bound in time, they can’t keep Cards standing safely just on their own. Which is why we’re here. It’s why the queens are given Heirlooms on their coronation. And why the kings die to end a War. To get peace, wealth, and bountiful lands, Cards has to sacrifice something in return.”

“The Heirlooms gather the excess joy and passion that exists in their countries and pairs them with the ancient energy the Jokers have placed in them. This energy is given to the lands, and the lands give back.” Matthew scratched his neck in thought. “The kings are given to Cards, and Cards gives peace.”

Antonio gathered up his cards and slipped them into his deck box. “The _Aces_ use their _specific_ powers bestowed on them by the Jokers to balance the inequality. Thanks to the Diamonds’s Heirloom and me, Diamonds has beautiful, fertile land. Which gives to the people of Diamonds, which gives to the Heirloom, which gives to the land, which gives to the people--”

“Which keeps Cards balanced.” Matthew gave Natalya and Lovino a warm smile. “Someday, we won’t be needed. But until then, we need to protect Cards from falling.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Thank you so, so much for reading/continuing to read The Catbird Seat! And thank you for leaving comments, kudos, and notes of appreciation! I don't tend to respond to them, because I'd rather not clutter the comments section (and throw off the numbers). But please note that I'm super thankful despite my silence!
> 
> I'll be changing the update schedule from every Monday to every OTHER Monday. I want to lengthen the chapters from ~1,000 words to ~2,000-3,000 words, and to do this (and also keep up the quality), I have to devote more time to it. I'm deeply sorry about this chapter's update delay, but this new updating schedule should solve the late chapter problem. 
> 
> Thank you again!
> 
> ~Stash

Alfred held Arthur’s hand in the last few moments before he’d leave. The crisp morning air rustled their clothing. Arthur stared off at the capital with his relaxed frown. Alfred leaned forward, trying to catch Arthur’s stare. Arthur’s expression remained the same: eyes unfocused, eyebrows pulled together, and head ever so slightly bowed. Alfred gave Arthur’s hand a squeeze, and Arthur instinctively squeezed back.

“Arthur,” Alfred murmured.

“Mm.”

“ _Arthur.”_

“Mm?” Arthur’s shoulders jolted as his eyes focused again. He met Alfred’s concerned gaze. “Yes, love?”

Alfred’s lips tugged into a warm smile, tinted with unease. “Try not to worry too much. You gotta focus on Spades more than me.”

Arthur let out a soft huff. “I can multi-task…”

“You get sucked into your head all the time. You’re great a thinking through stuff, but you’re pretty bad at being with everyone else in person.” Alfred took in a facetious gasp. “Is that why you asked for a king’s meeting, not a monarch meeting?”

“You know my reasons…” Arthur watched the sun bathe the city’s rooftops through the morning mist. “...Was I lost again?”

“Mhm.” Alfred pressed a kiss to Arthur’s head. “Stop leaving me behind.”

Arthur leaned against him, his eyes falling to the stone below their feet. “M’sorry. I’m just...thinking.”

“Uh, uh. I bet you’re just imagining. All sorts of awful stuff. Stop it.” Alfred released Arthur’s hand and wrapped his arm around him. “Everyone’s gonna be safe. Probably gonna get into a few arguments, but we’ll be safe. Just like normal. So there’s no need to be scared. You just gotta stay with everyone. Promise me. You won’t float away in your own head and leave me behind?”

Arthur met Alfred’s eyes, and he nodded. “I promise.” His eyes shot to the carriage and the mounted soldiers who were finishing up their preparations. Dread squeezed his heart, and he pressed more of his weight against Alfred. “They’re waiting for you. Do you have everything?” His fingers dug into Alfred’s clothes.

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure both of us checking a few times was enough.” Alfred gave Arthur another kiss against his head as he unhooked the other’s fingers from his person. “I’ll see you in a few weeks, and I promise to miss you every step of the way.”

Arthur’s eyes shot to Alfred as he swallowed his panic. This was necessary. Alfred had to go to the meeting. Spades only had one king for a king’s meeting.

“I love you, Art.”

Fuck, this felt so stupid. Why’d he have to make it a _king’s_ meeting to ensure he wouldn’t go? Idiot! But then…

“Arthur?”

Then if he’d gone to the meeting with Alfred, he wouldn’t have been able to put his plan in motion. It’s better to battle against a War on _many_ fronts! Logical, supernatural, emotional—all the fronts. He _had_ to stay if he wanted to seize a lead against the Jokers and their lame excuse for murderous play.

“ _Arthur._ ”

Arthur flinched again, waking up from his own thoughts. He nodded and gave Alfred an eager and lingering kiss. “I love you, too. I’ll miss you.”

Alfred’s lips fell into an unsure smile, but he stepped away nonetheless. “Bye, Babe.” With that, he forced himself to look ahead as he walked to the carriage. If he looked back at Arthur, Alfred knew he’d never be able to leave.

* * *

Arthur tapped the toe of his boot against the guest room door. “Matthew?” He called out, hoping that the other wasn’t already in bed. It’d be a pain to walk up the long flight of stairs again to visit. “Are you asleep? I needed some advice.”

Bed covers rustled on the other side of the door along with the sound of footsteps. It took a moment, but Matthew managed to open the door. His eyes fell to the tea tray Arthur held. “… How full is the teapot?”

“Full enough.” Arthur gave him a playful smile. “Could I come in? Talking with you really helps.”

Matthew sent a longing glance towards his bed before stepping aside, wordlessly allowing Arthur in. Without a moment to lose, Arthur hurried in, set down the tray, and began preparing the tea. “Are you trying to drown me, My Queen?” Matthew leaned against the door until it clicked shut.

Arthur sent Matthew a pained frown.

“… What’s wrong? Did you and Alfred have a fight before he left?”

Arthur shook his head. “No, it’s just…” He let out a brief laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood he had no intention of creating. He shrugged. “There’re no guards anywhere nearby. Or servants. I just thought you’d call me ‘Arthur.’ Unless you’re angry with me. Be honest.”

Matthew’s confused gaze softened with realization. “I guess I was looking forward to bed. But it’s more important to ease your mind. Especially if it’ll only take—” he lifted the teapot from Arthur’s hands and his sense of charity began dying, “…hours.”

Arthur winced, eased the pot out of Matthew’s hands, and set it aside after pouring them each a cup. “Have yours on the bed, then. We can talk as you go to sleep.” He held Matthew’s cup and saucer out to him. “I promise to leave when your head begins drooping. You’re probably still not quite rested from your trip.”

Matthew accepted the cup and saucer and took a seat on the bed. He let out a soft groan as he leaned against the cushioned headboard. “Alright. Go ahead.” He sipped at his tea, content with listening and staring off at the guest room door.

Arthur glanced down at his cup and decided against drinking a single drop. Instead, he eyed Matthew. “The tea’s to help with sleeping, actually. I thought it’d be more considerate.” Matthew hummed in appreciation as his eyelids drooped. “… I thought that sending letters about having a king’s meeting in Diamonds would be favorable. As you said. And, you’re right, it’s the center of Cards.” His voice soothed Matthew’s exhaustion. “Diamonds is publicly reluctant to begin Wars, but their monarchs aren’t naïve. I’m sure everyone will feel safe there. I’m glad you advised me the way you did.”

“Mm.” Matthew finished off his cup and set it on the bedside table. Arthur’s tone lulled Matthew closer to sleep. “Good,” he sighed, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“…And I wasn’t planning on going. Just the kings. Just in case.” Arthur unwrapped his napkin as he spoke, pulling out a thin brush and a small inkwell. “If something goes wrong, I can command our forces here in Spades.”

“M’not…fighting...” Matthew’s eyes fell closed.

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of forcing you on the battlefield when you’re obviously so against it.” He opened the inkwell, and the scent of lilies and roses wafted into the room. Arthur lowered his voice to a whisper. “No, you don’t belong on the battlefield. You should stay here where it’s safe.”

Matthew’s head drooped as the rest of his body remained still, already in deep sleep.

Arthur set his Heirloom on the bedside table and opened it. He dipped the brush in the inkwell and waited. He hadn’t done it yet. He could still remove the spell he’d already placed and go back to searching for a better way to stop the War from happening. He could still stop.

Arthur lifted the brush from the inkwell and stood. He didn’t have to draw the symbol on Matthew’s forehead. He didn’t have to say the magic words.

The flower-scented ink soaked into Matthew’s skin, disappearing. Matthew’s face pulled together just before he let out a violent few coughs. Arthur didn’t have to stand aside and let Matthew nearly cough up a lung. He didn’t have to remain still. After a final cough, a sphere of blue light shot out of Matthew’s mouth and remained hanging in the air with Matthew’s body lying slack beneath it.

Arthur didn’t have to hold the sphere, feel its warmth, or let its power seduce or flow through him. He didn’t have to swallow it.

But he did.

* * *

Arthur threw open the doors to his wardrobe and dug through his clothing. He had to find something plain—something that’d hide him in plain sight. Once someone found Matthew stuck in sleep in the guest tower, all eyes would fall on the queen. Or jack. But Arthur intended to disappear while he had the chance. While he had the element of surprise. He was only able to draw out and steal Matthew’s Ace power because the other trusted him since they were young. It’d be _much_ harder to get the other aces’ powers—especially when they’d find out about Matthew’s state.

Yao smacked open the bedroom door, and Arthur froze as he was pulling off his shirt. Yao caught his breath as he stared silently at Arthur...and at the bag on his bed. “Arthur,” he spoke between breaths, “Ace Matthew won’t wake up.”

Arthur’s nails dug into his shirt as he sat there, frozen. Well. Logically… No one could stop him. He had an Heirloom with unused reserves, the power of an ace, and the element of surprise on his side. Yao was always logical, so… Arthur yanked off his shirt and tossed it aside. “I know.”

A sense of anger and disbelief snuck into the confusion on Yao’s face. “... Why are you leaving?”

Arthur clicked his tongue with a slight frustration as he shoved a drawer closed and yanked open another. “I can’t have Spades catching me with the powers of the Spades Ace, can I? Everyone’ll try to stop me before I can command the Jokers to stop these stupid Wars.”

Yao whispered, “You can’t be serious… Arthur, you didn’t, right? Tell me you didn’t steal it… You’re just joking.”

Arthur’s fingers dug into some pants as his gaze met Yao’s eyes. “I stole it.” He shoved his upper body in his wardrobe and pulled out the blandest tunic he could find.

“ _Arthur,_ no, no, no. You couldn’t have. It’s impossible—”

“It’s possible. Oh, Yao, you can’t even _imagine_ how it feels.” Arthur couldn’t keep the smile off his face—no matter how hard he tried. “I’ll never need sleep again. How could Matthew live without bouncing off the walls?” His movements slowed as guilt caught up with him. “Watch over him, Yao. I promise I only intend to keep Matthew’s power until I’ve accomplished what I’ve set out to do.” He pulled on the clothes he’d chosen.

Yao shook his head. “This isn’t right, Arthur. You _can’t_ hold an Ace’s power. That’s why you were chosen to be the Spades Queen, not the Spades Ace. And most certainly not _all four_ Aces!” Yao threw his arms in the air, struggling to convey the severity of Arthur’s crime. “How could you even pull an ace’s power from them and take it for yourself? How is that possible?”

“I had to put Matthew under a sleeping spell. I knew he wouldn’t give up something he’s protected with his life, and I never wanted to hurt him, so...sleeping spell it was.” Arthur walked to his desk, yanked open a drawer, and took out a sheet of paper. “I found something interesting in your office.” He placed it on his desk for Yao to read, and he went right back to work gathering what he needed to travel on his own.

Yao leaned over the desk, scanning the scrap paper. His eyebrows pulled together as he tried to read it out loud. “... This is a old spell. You said it like this?”

“Yes.” Arthur stuffed a blanket into his bag. “But it won’t do anything for you, I think. Since it’s a queen’s spell. When I spoke it, the Spades Heirloom reacted. And...from there, I just had to figure out how to manipulate—”

“This isn’t a matter of sending letters!”

Arthur paused and gave Yao a skeptical look. “...How is that—”

“I meant— I meant that this isn’t something you can talk about as if it’s no big deal!” Yao crumpled the paper and pocketed it. “Do you think you can just roam the world and force the other three aces to give you their powers? You think you can just put them under a sleeping curse like you have with Matthew?”

“‘Curse’ is such a strong word,” Arthur mumbled as he yanked the drawstring on his bag. “The journal the spell was in said—er…showed…I suppose. It wasn’t entirely clear, but I won’t take chances. It ‘said’ I can only have an Ace’s power if that Ace is in the state of being unable to use it.” He paused to mumble to himself, “Right? If I pour Matthew’s power into my reserves, I have his power, but if he wakes up, then the…power might just go back to him…” He shook his head. “Matthew will sleep until I say he wakes up. He can’t use his power right now. So I ate it. It’s mine. Until he wakes.” He ran his hands through his hair to break up his calm image. No civilian had to keep perfectly combed hair. “I’ll have you know that the text suggested murder.” He couldn’t imagine what all those blood swipes could mean otherwise.

Yao grabbed Arthur’s arm, halting his progress. “You can’t kill them. You’ll throw Cards into chaos.”

“I’d never dream of killing Matthew.” Arthur pulled himself free.

Yao stared, taking a moment to digest how easily Arthur to pulled away. “…But you’d kill Antonio, Lovino, and Natalya.”

Arthur sent Yao a stern frown before he hauled his simple travel bag over his shoulder. “I won’t. I’ll find another way. I may not even need all four. Maybe just three is enough. Or two, perhaps, if all the Aces feel this powerful.”

“They’ll kill you.”

Arthur froze and looked to Yao.

“They’ll have no choice but to kill you.”

Arthur’s eyes fell down to the stone floor. “… I got a perfect Clock with the Queen’s Heirloom. I’ll be fine.”

“There are variables that can change a fortune, Arthur. There’s hardly a reason to use Clock to predict the future. Perhaps that’s why the other kingdoms don’t read their fortunes with cards!”

“Watch over Matthew. Don’t let anyone know he’s cursed.” Arthur took a step towards the royal garden.

Yao stood between Arthur and the doors. “I can’t let you leave.” His voice fell to a deep scold, “If you read about the Aces, you’ve read about the Queen’s Heirlooms, right? About the Spades Queen’s Heirloom, specifically?”

Arthur eyed Yao, took a breath, and glanced away from him. There wasn’t anything _to_ read. Just…marks.

“You’re one fatal step away from becoming a monster. The other Aces haven’t seen what a real Queen of Spades can do, but the Jokers have—” Yao’s eyebrows drew together with worry, “—and they’ll do anything to see it again. You _cannot_ kill anyone. Not a single person. Not a single Ace. With all that…magic in you, there’s no way you’ll be able to control yourself if you draw blood.”

Arthur’s knuckles turned white as he gripped his bag’s drawstring, insulted that Yao would think he’d hurt anyone. “Nothing will happen. Frankly, I’m shocked you think that I wouldn’t be able to control myself and this power. I’m cleverer than that. It’s not like I’ll lose my sense if I accidentally cut someone.”

“You must return the aces’ powers. You cannot kill anyone.”

Arthur let out a huff of frustration, but he understood Yao’s conflictions. After a moment of silence, he nodded firmly, more confident than he was a moment ago. “I swear I will return the powers to their respective Aces. And I swear I will not take a life. Please let me leave, Yao.”

Yao found himself staying put. Out of duty to Spades, the King, the Queen, the Balance, and to his friend…he found himself staying put, more or less blocking Arthur’s way out of the castle.

Arthur’s eyebrows drew together, and his jaw locked. His hand squeezed into a fist before he stepped past Yao without a word. Any words shared with Yao would do nothing but cause harm—especially when Yao was tearing himself apart for not holding Arthur down and demanding he reverse what he’d done for his own safety.

Yao remained still and silent as the dead until the sound of Arthur’s footsteps had completely disappeared. He turned and looked out at the dark night as regret clawed its way up his spine and infected him.


	14. Chapter 14

“Did you hear?”

“The Clubs Ace saw the sun lean!”

“I saw the Hearts Ace and the King of Hearts’s entourage on the path to Diamonds.”

“They always travel that path.”

“Yes, but listen! The water’s flowing a different way—some rivers have no end! There’s a waterfall in Hearts evaporates before it hits the dirt!”

“Didn’t you hear me? The sun told the Clubs Ace it’s leaning!”

A chorus of voices shouted and squealed at each other, every single one saturated with enthusiasm. Among the trees and leafy forest paths between kingdoms were voices passing about the comings of another War. The comings of a dark age. The comings of…

“I heard, I heard!”

“Do you think the Jokers will let the Dark Queen free?”

“It’s been _ages_ ,” an older voice groaned with relief. “I can feel it—”

“Why else would the sun lean? This is the sign we’ve been waiting for! Isn’t it?”

The older voice hummed in thought, “The promise of another War brings the chance. We haven’t had a Dark Queen for two Wars now. We’re due for a Rebirth. We must welcome the Dark Queen back into our world and thank Them for blessing us with a new slate through Their bloody burden.”

A young voice, fueled with the naivete of fresh and flawed idealism, rang out, “We can help! We can help the Dark Queen pave the way for a fresh Cards!”

The other voices rang out in agreement, echoing against the trees. The extensive group’s hums and shouts of approval followed the breeze, on the backs of leaves and birds.

On another shaded path, Arthur’s feet crushed leaves as he tramped his way to Diamonds. His chest was light. His step was quick, and his eyes followed the horizon. As best as they could through a modest sea of trees.

The thought of Matthew lying in a coma-like sleep shot through his mind.

His step slowed, and his eyes drifted off. The branches leaned in the breeze, and leaves smacked against Arthur’s untamable hair. His chest grew heavy, until he sucked in a breath of air. As if he’d been struck by lightning, energy shot through Arthur’s body, refreshing him—whether he liked it or not. Arthur rested his hand against his neck and then dragged his fingers down to his constricting chest. Arthur glanced left, right, and behind him, and for a moment, he’d swear he felt Matthew’s embrace.

His eyebrows pulled together. His pace quickened. Thoughts of Matthew’s smile left a sour taste in his mouth. Thoughts of Alfred’s smile squeezed his heart.

* * *

“This ending again.”

“I told you, Alfred,” Francis murmured, exhaustion seizing his tone, “this is the only result. Every time Lilli and I use our magic, the result is the same always.”

The four kings stared down at a bleak Clock in which only the Queen of Spades survived. Alfred shook his head. “You asked it different questions? Like…”

“We asked it ‘who will win the war,’ ‘who will survive the war,’ ‘who will be saved,’ ‘will there be balance,’ ‘will Cards survive,’ and no matter what… The King of Spades falls first, the Queen of Spades lives, and the other three kings die. Ending the War.” Francis let out a tense sigh before gathering the cards up again.

Ludwig eyed the cards. “Perhaps because this fortune-telling originated in Spades, it favors Spades.”

“What a surprise,” Ivan murmured.

“It didn’t favor me when I did it,” Alfred hissed through his teeth. He fumbled with whatever cards Francis had yet to pick up. “You shuffled it all right? Faced them all north?”

“He’s done everything but use your Queen’s Heirloom.” Ivan’s gaze drifted from the cards to lock on Alfred. Why waste time with fortunes when they were there to discuss business and boundaries?

Francis rested a hand on Ivan’s arm in a silent scold or plea before he went back to gathering the cards and setting them straight. “Yes, Alfred, you did everything true to the ritual as well.” Francis set the deck down on the table between the four kings. “Alfred, Ivan, Ludwig. I must confess.”

Alfred and Ivan each lifted an eyebrow.

“Confess to what?” Ludwig’s eyes narrowed as concern dampened his faith in Francis.

Francis rose his hands as a show of peace. “It’s about the Joker. Peter.” He waited a second as the other kings’ faces fell in their own special ways. “He’s paid me a visit. He’s told me how this War may affect the Queen’s Heirlooms. I believe he was directing me towards Arthur’s Heirloom.”

“What’d he say?” Alfred demanded. “Why would he tell you anything? Why not me??”

“Calm down. It could be helpful.” Ivan sent Alfred a tired glare.

Alfred let out a huff, but reeled in his speaking time just the same.

“I wish it wasn’t my business.” Francis reached across the table to grasp Alfred’s hand. “But you must listen to me. I studied the history, and I know what will happen if Arthur is let onto the battlefield.” His gaze passed over Ludwig and Ivan. “You all know the history, too?”

Alfred lifted an eyebrow and neglected to acknowledge Francis holding his hand. “I know Spades Queens have been dangerous in the past, but Arthur isn’t like that.”

Francis released Alfred’s hand as Ludwig spoke up, “If you have any more information, tell us. We need to know the specifics if we want to stop this War from happening.”

“Not all of us have to die for this,” Ivan murmured. “Why assume we’ll all die even if we go to war?”

“Because that is what a War is.” Ludwig directed his attention towards Ivan. His lips tugged into a firmer frown. “A series of battles where the kings all die in the end. It can’t end until we all die. That’s its definition.”

“That _was_ its definition.” Ivan rested an arm on the table, daring Ludwig to argue further. “We don’t have to follow it. Language _changes._ Why should wartime mean the end of all four kings? Didn’t it start just because the Jokers were bored of the first four? They just didn’t care enough to stop the cycle—”

“The Queen’s Heirloom won’t give him a choice.” Francis rose his voice to quell Ivan and Ludwig’s squabble. Reluctantly, both Ivan and Ludwig gave their attention back to Francis. “We can talk about the difference between the War and wars after this.” Francis tucked his deck into its case and dropped it in his pocket. “Lilli is lucky her Heirloom’s power comes with peace and brings life. And you know about Kiku’s and Elizabeta’s Heirlooms.”

Alfred nodded gingerly, careful to pay attention.

Francis met Alfred’s eyes. “But no one knows about the Spades’s Heirloom.”

Alfred stared down at the table.

“So what? Spades doesn’t need a Queen’s Heirloom,” Ivan muttered before drinking some of the water provided. “They already have a world’s supply of military weapons and ammunition. And their inventors aren’t to be underestimated. Diamonds, Hearts, and Clubs rely on their Queen’s Heirloom’s. Just bury Spades’s.”

Alfred’s eyebrows drew together. In his best attempts to behave, he ignored Ivan’s comments. “If the purpose of the Spades’s Heirloom is kept secret, then Arthur’s Heirloom holds a _lot_ of magic. Since he can’t really use it.”

“He can’t?” Ludwig pushed for more information.

“Well—more like. He can, but only little bits. There’s not much he needs it for. Or— It doesn’t…” He wracked his memory for Arthur’s thoughts on the subject. Damn, it would’ve been much easier if they’d just invited all the queens as well. Stupid. “He doesn’t use it. He just guards it. Usually.” Alfred paused, remembering how Arthur had squandered a bit of magic on a fortune. He rolled his eyes. “So if Arthur’s never tapped into the real power of the Queen’s Heirloom, then… It’s got a lot of power saved up...an excess...” His brain leaped onto a separate train of thought the second it came into his head. “The Spades Queens in the past—before my mother and the Spades Queen before her. They were always nuts—”

“Chaos-driven—” Francis interjected.

“Chaos-driven, then it’s the Heirloom…that’s doing it.” Maybe. It was a _stretch._ But what else would the Spades Heirloom be used for? And a lot of power made people nuts, right? Alfred shook his head. “But the Queen’s Heirloom holds the Spades magic. It regulates our people’s well-being! Like the other Heirlooms! My kingdom can’t function without Arthur protecting it.”

Francis grasped Alfred’s hand. “He just has to keep his hands clean. If he never tastes bloodlust, the Heirloom won’t take him over. Arthur will remain perfectly sane and good-willed.” According to the fairytale. According to the history. Francis released Alfred’s hand. “This will be difficult, but…I advise you keep Arthur in the Spades Castle. Don’t let him out for anything.”

“You want me to imprison my partner?” Alfred looked between all three kings, finding no one who argued with this solution.

Francis’s eyes were weighted with sympathy. “I want you to protect Arthur from his Heirloom, so you can save Cards from the Queen of Spades. I can’t think of another way. If he goes to the battlefield, then he may end up killing someone.”

Ivan shrugged and sipped his water again, his attention far more focused on his own kingdom and how he could protect it. He didn’t have the time to be affected by the difficulty Alfred would face. “House arrest is a small precaution. He’ll get over it.”

“You’re not married to him.”

“Heh.” A smile twitched onto Ivan’s face.

Ludwig rested a hand on Alfred’s shoulder in an attempt to build a sense of comradery. “It’s for the best. He was reasonable enough to invite us all here to Diamonds.” He paused, noting how Arthur essentially took complete advantage of Francis’s good nature. Ludwig shook off the thought. “Instead of to Spades. Considerate and…inconsiderate at the same time, but he hasn’t proven that he’d fall victim to the Spades Queen tradition of bloodlust. He could be like the previous two Spades Queens.” He released Alfred’s shoulder.

“Yet,” Ivan murmured as he propped his cheek up on his fist. “You’d better stay alive, Alfred. I’m not sure what the Queen of Spades would do if you tripped into your own death.”

Alfred pointedly frowned. “Let’s talk about what War means.”

* * *

The Jack of Hearts stepped into the throne room, thoroughly bothered by his recent discovery. He halted, seeing the king and queen’s thrones empty. His eyebrows pulled together in confusion, and his mouth hung open ever so slightly. A creak startled him.

“Feliciano?”

Feliciano’s eyes flew to his left to see Queen Kiku step into the throne room from behind a door. “Kiku—” A relieved smile spread across his face, “—it’s nice to see you.”

Kiku’s lips tugged into gentle smile, and he gave Feliciano a respectful nod. “Did you rest from your trip?”

Feliciano shook his head, and the mix of outrage and panic struck him again. “No— No, listen.” He stepped over to Kiku, tossing his arms this way and that to illustrate his words. “I was called out urgently to inspect a river. I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t inspect it myself. It stopped.”

Kiku’s smile had fallen into soft line.

“Right? Listen.” Feliciano held Kiku’s hands, moving them to act as the riverbed. “The waterfall fell down the cliff—” Feliciano’s fingers waved back and forth as he brought them from over their heads down to Kiku’s hands, “—and it stopped! It never touched the riverbed! The dirt was all dried up, and everything that grew in it died!”

“A localized famine?” Kiku whispered.

“A _very_ specific famine!” Feliciano rested his fingers on Kiku’s open palms. “I don’t want to think Queen Lilli or Ace Antonio have _anything_ to do with it, but...controlling fertility is what Diamonds is known for. It’s what their Queen’s Heirloom is good for. Ace Antonio can grow a watermelon in the desert. And now our rivers are drying up.”

Kiku thought back to previous encounters with the Diamonds monarchy. “... Have we offended them?”

“I know what you’re thinking. Why would Queen Lilli and Ace Antonio attack us like this? We haven’t done anything wrong. They’re not petty people. They wouldn’t do anything like this to us. The worst they’d probably do is tell a fun but informal joke.” Feliciano glanced back to the king’s throne. “I wanted to talk about it with both you and Ludwig. Where is he?”

“He left for a king’s meeting in Diamonds. He won’t be back for a couple weeks.” Kiku allowed his hands to fall to his sides. “They aim to solve our problems to avoid another War.”

Feliciano’s eyes met Kiku’s. “Then… But… Then why would the rivers run dry when all the kings and queens want to fix the problems between us? Why cause anger? Or hardship? If they wanted to fix everything?”

Thoughtful concern filled Kiku’s eyes. “...Do they want to fix everything?”


End file.
